...a hole in the belly of your blood soaked dreams pissing on your nightmares chewing my way beneath your skin as my tongue burns and invitation with the cod's balsamic vinegar

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔄𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔰, 𝔖𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔞𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔲𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔡𝔢𝔟𝔞𝔲𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰. 𝔈𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰, 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢...

With the tallow melted and the wick nil,  Jack Frost tat lace on the window sill.Woos plant a swoon on this bard's poetic archer,  Last breath of verse for this scorcher.As the ashes on the grate kindle a spark, ...