Epoxy bonds from Orphnē by maud the moth

Turned sides until I lost my soul.
Washed my own contour into the perfect foreign glow.
Had my ends divided, all dirty and swollen up.

We became the beggars, of crowded thoughts and perfect speech.
Dragged my ink stained limbs across the white canvas of guilt.
Following lies I found I different truth.

Under the same sky. Over the ocean’s indigo slab.

And without words she whispered “I will hold your hand, as you held mine in the forest and the stone hall.
And your chest will glow.
And the entrails of the animals and the grass below your feet will curl around your naked toes.
And you will sing about it all when I am gone”.

Givers of grace

• Alternative
• avant-garde
• dark neoclassical
• ethereal wave
• neoclassical
• singer-songwriter
• Edinburgh