Old men, unrepentant, dying of nasty sins. Silence screams across a desert landscape waiting for the breath of God, There is no dictionary to spell out the icicles that hide in the human heart. The normalization of evil incarnate under late autumn fake moon rays, People with no knowledge of their own being only their beating hearts. The masters of the system with heads full of meat make no effort to open up their field of vision. Black snow shudders where colour hides, the distant ring of bells, a Suffolk valley fading with a ‘Stand-at- ease’ Indifference.
