thoughts, words, sketches

The Pregnant Flesh

Soaked through and through, soaked to the bone, a window opens unto blind scenery, drawing the eye. Water drops from the sky, down unto an upturned face, ravens soar through clouds of steel, black on grey. Skin rips, long strips of flesh borne away on the wind, color rushes forth, to fill the eye till nothing else is seen. Bone emerges, through flesh unharmed...