wolfwork

clapperboards sandwich hordes scavengers in paradise, training their eyes under grey porridge skies, magistrates ivory gates opiates potentates, kings of carrion badness in the blood, it's all wolfwork, faxes from a wall of corpses, gorging on each day in mourning, father time squeezing the sun, for light relief they bare their teeth, and turn on their own, rolling around on a fresh bed of nails, come and see the show, join in the ring, with your mouth open wide