there was gossip, there were pleas, there were rumors of meaning in meaningless things. widows readied their marital beds. litters of bastards gnawed at your breast. the filthy are first to be showered in love. the world’s gone mad. we dress them in furs as they travel the earth. saints wear rags. you blessed our home, we took you in, but you had come to a place where the plague had been. it burrowed into your graces and airs, it took your queen, it hawked your wares. the stoic are first to be covered in shit and life goes on. but when it don't anymore i’ll see you in hell where i am god. god damn it, wait. they don't love you like i do but i don't know you like them. they love you better. i know you best. every hostile deed is your death. it’s not mine.
“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 ...