The phosphorescence rolled the rocks,
In luminescent workings locked.
One more to hold within the walls,
One more to weld alone and tied.
Too fortunate, too blistered blue,
Too formed by broken will and rage.
One more for silent angers crushed,
One more for wasting, whipped and blocked.
Indoctrinated, sulphurous tears,
In violence, sated lusts and fears.
One more to twist and turn our way,
One more soft back to crack, then meld.
In green the glow of hollow earths,
In green the eyes and horrors stored.