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Still aligned with Corvus.
Muttering incessantly.
Thatched roof is muffling the rape of certainty.
Still mounted atop old Hircus,
feeding brittle thread through a feeble loom.
Offers of the blood pact, now ungiven.
Straw and Venus summers imbibed by fog.
Entrenched and ensconced.
Conduit has grown over.
Backsliding vivification.
Shrouded in banality, shrouded in death.
Still mounted atop old and holy Hircus.
Shrouded in banality, shrouded in Death.
