The fore-bidden

The foreboding is one of remembrance, of being castaway, of
tasting acid death as it gnaws out your innards. The silent shriek
prefigures what was fore-bidden: the gnarl, the howl, the groan.

The lust is one of revulsion, of being cowardly in face of acid
death as it approaches and recalls the stench. Stalk out
the lustful sore roots, and the sea will grant you its breeze.

This entry was posted in Poetry.

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