Leaping from cliffs
That have no face
Undulating ground
Swallowing faith
We sit and listen
As the crows cry
Through echoing throats
The little demons
In feathery cloaks
Crawl undetected
Into our mouths
To make their nest
Coated in profanity
Coaxing out screams
They spill us out
Into turbulent seas
Just as the sky itself
Grows its own row of teeth
And gnaws on the flesh
Of those poor souls
Too distracted to flee
HASTYWORDS 
Time to cut the distractions then. I had to. It was that or die.
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“Grows its own row of teeth
And gnaws on the flesh
Of those poor souls
Too distracted to flee”
Love it. You continue to impress me, Ms. H.
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More Cormorant than just a crow on the wing, a dive of sparse seas, a fisher of the deep…
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