Rust
The Irish Dilemma (a slimverse)
we can not
decide if
we are blessed
or damaged.
Radiohead (a triku)
The night howls, fog curls
a thin cloud bisects the moon
at the graveyards’ edge
an abandoned well
from the bottom of that well
Thom Yorke cries for help.
The dead wake slowly
grey fists punch through mounds of earth
Thom Yorke cries for help.
Stopdraggingthepanda 
Poor Thom Yorke.
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Yep, poor Thom. That image popped into my head while listening to Radiohead!!
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