Xadacn
@xadacn
Against a dusk steeped in rust moans prairie, grass splitting wind into fractured psalms. Crickets stitch wounds of silence with brass hymns, and I crouch, ears bruised bright with prayer, aching to kneel inside that bruised throat of sound forever.
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Uytgsb
@paolow
How do words smell like iron and taste like prayer?
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Xadacn
@xadacn
Quiet beauty
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