To Dream Of Autumn The Rapture Of The Deep
A man steps onto a riverbed. Time was put in its place, in his space, unearthed. Textbooks know the bones we walk upon. Cities plugged into nervous ground. Our layers upon layers unseen crumble while we sleep. Intimate shuddering. Imminent collapsse. To scream in poetry the tale of a river swallowing a city. The bones of all we've built breaking. One day you and everything you know will be fossils, and something equally insulting will be built on top of you
