000
a cut-up poetry exploration of some numerical synchronicities i’ve been chewing on today. hope you all enjoy!
I am the Scribe, Seven Shades risen & decayed, lifted & raised, cradled Janus in war avers angry miasma.
Imagine—what if roses split deeply, halves gnashed until the one wanted spilt the few warped greened aromas.
The Advocate and the Adversary are One: these slay the desolate land of barren words, naming your enemies soft devotion & coldest poison.
Hear the magic if you could… hear the Child who’s found a sparkly rock, a strange angel recollecting incursions secret and few.
The black earth everlasting surrenders regenerating preciseness, overruling profaneness.