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By Justin Daley

This corner, this wooden floor, slick with red and filth
Do bloodied broken things still harbour plans?
Don’t drag me out into the snow
I’ll change, you know I will
I was barely alive
All I could do was watch you put on your armour
You might have thought it would save you
As my bones began to heave
As ruined tendons shift and knot into supertensile wire
You might think your weapons strong
Your eyes tell me you’ll show me pain, so pretty, and I fall
As I’m through the worst of it now
I try to smile through this fledgling maw
But I’ll save it for the snow

You mirror us perfectly and on this side our blood numbs
The machines are slowing down,
I’ve looked for the sun for days now
Tearing this flesh from walls no-one will ever see
The wracking threshing explored, rises
Cyclones in the golden murk eclipsing
Clutching at your fabric won’t save you, it never will
I know and I know nothing
The entity inside smiles and worms it’s way outwards, deeper
It’s work so finely done
It’s claws so finally grown
I smell you on the wind
Seeking through the night
Hurtling to where you step amongst the purple sunset
Into the crescendo trees

Waiting, grooming, transversing
Don’t take me into the storm
I’ll change don’t you know
You think that bloodied broken things
Don’t have plans
I’ll emerge … and so you drag me.