Clashing wisps of grey thunder threaten the gates
and spill cloudy fingers of shadow across the purple boundary
I am a liar and face painted and raw
I am a liar and rain-washed white
The shrivel-molder of touching devils
and demons of the forgotten.
Does it move not nor speak?
Slitted shadows of misted sand
waste across vast dark shoals.
I am a liar and red foam at my teeth
and spit blue from blackened lips.