solicitude for the man in tremendum fully mad in autumn the sea-winds grew stood alone upon my labor in a cement box; it wasn’t an act of love nor was it an act of god, I see the dead potatoes of our graves. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
I don’t know, think I should expand on this piece? I have another version that I considered nearly finished but feel the simplicity in this is much more profound.
Not sure if I’ll share the other version admittedly. 😅 It’s too dark.