Infant Island Burrow
Truly unsettled, I alone withhold a form or shadow
Feast of flesh and self, 'til limitless potential gratifies cold, yet fluid aberrations; swarming among a stream, infecting
Dissect to undo
Renewal of my grandest fears
Burrow a hollow frame, a home
Burrow or swallow, an age forlorn
Burrow a hollow fate, in stone
True forms renewed within shadow
Futility to be fed on a shell called life
An etched scar to be bled among timeless echoed blight, all to be resurfaced
Resurface, resurface, resurface
Still living, still waiting, still craving
More than their lies, more of the sky
