Untitled I

They dragged him. They dragged him out of the woods when no one saw when no one was there to stare. Bogged down by no remorse. Drowned out in the noises logging machines make and that could have drilled open even a heart of stone. If no one but them knew, conscience was more likely to feel clean. At least, this is what they thought. Tied to no mercy the six feet of him: he didn't have one mark, the one missing or buried, he was not like those stallions with a marking on their foreheads he had marks all over his body, tattooed by the elements, the animals rummaging through meaty, fleshy layers resisting the biting frost, sniffing with innocence husk-like carcasses, empty, void, yet succulent at the crossing line between wild and tamed where nothing ever stops as the spinning goes on taking everything down to the last possible beginning when ghostly worms crawl back as before into their crafted hidings where hierarchical dissolution is part of the evolutionary ladder - not for them- Because nature knows best. No time left. Be it the tree, the horse, the man They all end up, or down. This episode's cover photo credited to: https://www.freepik.com/free-photo/top-view-background-beautiful-white-grey-brown-cream-blue-background_13191135.htm Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.