Texturitate Poem by Jamie Dewyer

earth ashen bare the fruit to waste
these feeble speeches ache to hate
to tie the tounge in word and prayer
thru homage to the dead things there

this grave is cozy like her heart
devoured like the dead stars mark
inside me guns and bombs and razors
gifts that turn love into strangers

hired hands for freedoms clover
spoil in the heart of summer
watchdogs hunger pains are growing
monsters ate my soul i'm sorry