cold turkey

resurrecting the trashcan bard

on the abyss endless steppe 
i stood
watching my soul evaporate
as i breathe out
trying to warm
my cold cold hands

galloping past
a crow caws at me
from the back
of a wild pale horse
heading east
towards the river styx

i continue west
a pack of salivating wolves
orbiting
my cold turkey aura

i am unconcerned
the insulated hut
was claustrophobic
better
to be out in the wild
free of feeling lost
trying to act
civilised
or
as some
propagandist
call
religious

anyways
i could still see the abyss
through the huts
blood stained
macabre
glass windows
with the clawed tattered
thermal
hell fire red
curtains

i could still feel the abyss
sighing
through the floor cracks
whistling
through the keyhole
waiting
for the frozen tundra
to melt
within the
crematorium
before
the abyss
freezes over again
my crushed
ashes
absorbed
into the frozen tundra

better
to…

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