Mother Night Revisited by Premonitions Of War
Biting through tongues and foaming at the mouths. Splicing together what will not pan out. Wax works for bitter pills, yet vials and spoons seem better still. Trade all the lines that you cut in for all the hours spent blacked out and shivering into mother night again. Trade all your needles for all the sleep you've missed. As much as you can get. She'll tuck you into pitch.