Not-Iced

sentenced to hell at the age of birth and living within the living well the urn of fortune casts the wheel and stones test me hub pin the frozen frustration, the liquid fire ignites the lift, into the light, and sets the gong of fortunes keening, at a wicked glance. eyes, i senses your grapid beauty the column ant that endless be the insisted insistance that closed the gap and widened the meaning of buttress thought i saw, a space of grace in you thought that lonely plane of war was you thought the gott-ya, before the answer, got the better of ri and the frozen, bones, of hallowed, grave soulfulled inside the rivers maeve, and gladness, tried a few steps, upon the thin ice.