Innocence was stolen from us, were you the child hunter being forced to hold the gun or the deer in a meadow? Were you frozen in the headlights before you became roadkill, or did you stand there on purpose? The lights burn lower and the stars are brighter, a look into an alien ancient world as the moon stares down at me.

Kudzu is consuming the south along with me, and I’ll consume anything I can get my hands on. The old gods are coming back, rising from the ashes of a dying dream, and from pentacles in rusty clay antlers will cradle the earth, scraped raw and bleeding till I’m washed by the blood and so are you.

The world constantly changes but somehow my poverty remains, excess and abundance each day, despite all the change my path remains the same, pulled forward inexplicably.