Kenalli

how far can you run / on a couple of dollars and a / mouthful of sarcasm / and bitter spit / how far can you go / without giving in and turning left / lying in sunlight drained / cormorants on the rocks / a silence / a chapel / a prayer / smoke to choke on / sadness to wade through / a stormy silence / where something made a home / where something moved away / where emptiness has settled in the wake of what was lost / where home has shifted / into something without eyes / without a name / without a face / there is a black hole / where my stomach used to be / swallowed by a god complex i / erode to bitter nothingness / with the sun to our back

He sees her huddled near the side of the road, the hood of her tattered brown cloak pulled tightly around her wrinkled face. She rises to her feet as he nears on horseback, her tiny frame hunched over, a crooked wooden cane clutched in her weathered hand. "Won't you buy a rose, my lord?" She asks, her voice a low cackle that crawls over his skin. He glares down into her white eyes, the eyes of a blind woman, and the stench of sickness reaches his nose. Her hood falls back from her face, revealing her blistered lips and her ashen skin, marred with the spots of disease. "Get away from me, peasant." He shouts, disgusted. She bends one crook