The System of Dread

The black swan

Looking for the white of her eyes


He rolls the boulder

Who will be first

The bones are calling

Tongues of leather curled around stones

My place of domicile directly feeds the dead and unread

Whispers of a new age coming 

The gray void looming within us

Sadly we await the funerals that will not come

Zen and our apocalypse

Residency of horrors hidden in the woods

There must be some way out of here