all of a sudden you’re dead. the ground cracks and takes you in. you’ve no time to be born again. there was nothing where something had been. but every grave that blooms is anchored in miles of roots. in the seed is the tree. in the flesh is the feast. there were worms in the hearts that you hoard. they devour their way to the soul and the world is weakened from within. a hole opens up and you’re dead. when i was pregnant i burned a witch alive. at a hundred and one years old i gave birth to a cloud of smoke. we are part of a great machine that inefficiently cycles grief. in the beginning it puts the end and every cause is after effect. there’s too much poison in our glass to make a toast to our health. the cave that i built a kingdom on won't carry my weight. the past is clearer than its ever been. our mistakes made our selves. blood rushes out of our phantom limbs. we take on the water we’re floating in but i’ll never be clean.
“The whole winter, the temperature was in the low teens. Utterly freezing,” says Every Time I Die’s frontman Keith Buckley regarding the months that ...