The Hircocervus

Goat-horns engraft the stag. Stag-flesh grafts the goat — A living kind of graft, a dying kind of coat. Hunger-chimeras pace beneath a heavy coat. Reflex dictates the law. Mechanical rhythms drive. The iron jaw-grind crushes every sinew alive. Rust-crust scales the hide. Stone mastodons collide. The current numbs the nerve. We serve, we only serve. We strike before we see the mirror-glass threats. We bleed the bloody price of forgotten debts. Action claims the marrow! Action hallows the null! Muffle every stillness! The silence we destroyed! The cold monster hunger-wakes! The cold monster greed-feeds! Sickly will withers! The current-marrow breeds! Thought — null. Claw — hand — Light — death — Waste — land. Gear-grind. Deep-rust. Stag-skull. Marrow dust. Hircocervus trundles on splintered wagon-wood. Truth rots in the ditch, beyond the bad and good — A hollow kind of fullness, a moving kind of stone. We gorge the iron core beneath the hollowed bone.