Promise of the Enten Mann

An iron back arbalest overtaken and overgrown with spores and saprolings glows with the aftershock of rotting neon dreams.

...the horn blows.



lidless and vacant. she stares into hearts that have no timing or sense of timing.

...the fish teem.



sunken into absent abstracts, the pit of blowflies eats away at her dress. she sings for recollection and recount.

...the sheep count.



under the obsidian sphere that zeniths over a land of waste and eager venom, we sit around our smolders, slinging soft seances to sultry winged villains.

...the clock breaks.



.