Wounded Son
Pain Is All I Have For You
An infected journey through humid vine like enclosures and vicious leaf blades with a tangy serrated edge where one might observe a little too closely the multi-colored wandering spiders over oaks hanging and sucking the sharp edges of the razor, a sudden shine of reflected alumni light could perhaps enter the cornea and a dangerously precise interval pre-empting the reflex to shut your eyes. At last, crawling on hands and stone along a rocky and unstable footing - the enormous shale mouth opens…