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Literature Text
The capillary rasp of tongues,
I know nothing but chattering
As warm air trades its place with young;
A shiver starts resurfacing
Within the walls of little lungs.
I know nothing but chattering,
Wintery gust I taste your braid;
A shiver starts resurfacing
As degrees fall in centigrade,
The weaving wind is circling.
Wintery gust I taste your braid
Within the walls of little lungs,
As degrees fall in centigrade
The capillary rasp of tongues
Will end all things that I have said.
I know nothing but chattering
As warm air trades its place with young;
A shiver starts resurfacing
Within the walls of little lungs.
I know nothing but chattering,
Wintery gust I taste your braid;
A shiver starts resurfacing
As degrees fall in centigrade,
The weaving wind is circling.
Wintery gust I taste your braid
Within the walls of little lungs,
As degrees fall in centigrade
The capillary rasp of tongues
Will end all things that I have said.
Comments5
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Hi Sedahliah, this piece has been featured as a part of Octacula projectdfc.deviantart.com/blog… in ProjectDFC and also in my journal kiwi-damnation.deviantart.com/… . Thank you for writing such a great piece.