old gods

mine are the old gods

who wander blackened streets and ruined cities

murmuring strains of song long long forgotten

a melody that the earth has not heard for ten thousand years

mine are the old gods

who possess stones and twigs and little else

who drink gutterwater from cupped hands

and dream of the ancient forests that died for this greying world

mine are the old gods

who breathe broken glass in the absence of air

it shreds their lungs, turns their throats bloody

they can't die. they want to. they can't.