A rasping silence from deep the well hung still with thickening breath pulsing the altar's obsidian circuits humming a dirge, clock worn doom born not of flesh but with eyes with the absence of faith ticking twilight's orthodoxy...Oh! 'See, See...

Melancholy creeping anthropology in silence where shadows throng with secrets kept in a pill box as Fido buries a bonea treasure never to be foundplanting a seed marking the spotwith a primal urge lusting sod by any ordinary wayfaring...

A soliloquy's symphony craving oblivionfor a cigarette. With a wake of memoriesclinging to my lungs, like ropes, wheezing.A kept final sleep in the dark's saprophagousof dreamless haunts. Within the bonesof my anthropology. Suffocating winter'sglacial slope...Waiting for, 'The Marlboro Man.'