Blackbird Raum
grudge against the epitaph
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The wolves were thinning in skins sheep had known they were living in.
The wolves were thinning in skins, hunger coming to know them again
I donât fucking believe this.
I just want to go home.
You were supposed to feed me.
Just leave me alone.
Iâm falling to dust.
Thereâs nothing I can do.
Sleep under dunes
Song of terrapin shell
Lined with the tinder moss
A craft of living coal