Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

A maelstrom pisses down fire

On the edge
Of the shine,
The moon
Breathes blood
Upon a dirty
White cloud.
Stains softly
Press the sky
With wisdom
Sodomizing the
Whispers of
Closer dragons.
Spells piercing
Nights into
Day and the
Dry spell of
Fear having
Ridden too far
Into the valley
Brings shivers
To my heart,
As the sword is
Aptly pointed
To destroy whatever
Parts of the fight
That have yet to cease.


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A maelstrom pisses down fire

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