Today a cherub, whose hand I held, spit in my face
With spurs in my back digging in like needles, flew away
Abandoning me
Maybe a sign?
Omnipresent chaos and misfortune
Is the hatchling a source of bitter nourishment?
Or forbidden in nature?
As the modern rusty chain spreads its length across this fucking Earth
Now a cherub whose hand I held spits in my face
Spurs in my back
Dug in needles
Abandons me
Maybe a sign of chaos and misfortune
Is the hatchling a source of bitterness?
Or forbidden in nature...
As a modern rusted chain spreads its length across this fucking Earth, obligatory and bitterly, without permission...
So will I
