Littlest Brontides | cereseithne
Through Those Irises
Were they ever, in the midst of these chaotic burns of whirls, these crippling exhaustion that terribly blows like rough winds, which at inclement nights strike as the turbulent blizzard that corrodes from within? It is possible. No one could have told: all that was known, that when you look deeply into their souls, they have unconcealed predicaments that only irises can mirror.
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Littlest Brontides
PoetryAn anthology tackling the cosmic baffling collision of societal conditions and the incalculable prejudices and other musings coming as littlest brontides with a hope that their low rumbles may find their ways to you. Always and forever, Ceres Eithne
