The World's Decay Where The Wind's Hands

Show Him Every Dawn & Read To Him Endlessly.

He Could Not Stand. It Was Not That He Could Not Thrive, He Was Born With Everything But The Will – That Can Be Deformed, Just Like A Limb. Death Was More Interesting To Him. Life Could Not Get His Attention.

Nobody Knew The Iron Man Had Fallen. Night Passed.

The World's Decay Where The Wind's Hands Have Passed, And My Head, Worn Out With Love, At Rest In My Hands, And My Hands Full Of Dust.

I Sit In The Top Of The Wood, My Eyes Closed. Inaction, No Falsifying Dream Between My Hooked Head And Hooked Feet: Or In Sleep Rehearse Perfect Kills And Eat.