Ricewine Writing

What frozen chill grows in this silence
Cuts through, cut-throat, tinged with violence
Here’s to the ice-edged knife!
My tongue stuck
To piteous idol of nihilismus
Tasting iron.y,
Damascus style striations
Strengthening the origami folded fate
‘Neath which our crimson rivers lie
We fantasize they’ll be released
By ribbon-blades of moonlit sky
Dream they gush ad infinitum;
shackle-free, we’d quench the sun
Ha!
can’t cut life'self to get inside
Even if it could it’d dry up
Soaked into parched unfeeling soil:
Just watch Earth drink our noxious toil
Toxic hope 's neutral to it’s crust
Just as it eats our mortal coil
And leaves us temperate, silent dust,
Yet we fight cold truth for ire
at placid nothing all around us