Add to ORKGY OUR breath comes in short, quick gasps. Your tongue feels dry and swollen as you monotonously explore each crack and crevice of your mouth-your teeth are harsh and rough and the irritating coat of dirt on their edges will not come off..
The wind, cold from Arctic seas, flattened like a crouching animal as it rushed in across the barren...
The warm, dry air pushed itself up through the metal curlicues of the register..
As scent of freezia in the winter gloom Recalls the look of flowers long since dead, Bruised hearts ...
On either side of me the great wheels turn, Sifting the hot dry earth into the air like smoke..
EAT lies like a sticky hand over the little Nebraska town. The last drop of moisture has been wrung ...
A GUST of wind slipped through the paneless frame and tossed dust into my face. I coughed, spat, the...
An old woman, face lined with time\u27s scratches and slipping spectacles, plays the collar of her p...
What\u27s wrong, little man? You plop along in the hot dust. Each step stirs tiny clouds of gray mis...
Muffled yardlight eye reaches for the foggy earth Headlights pan Tires scratch into furrows Weeds br...
The dry day dies as many have before, In the steel-gray death of a bloodless sun; Mortician night sh...
A sullen breeze the towers wrapped In fragrances of pine and dark. A spiderweb the moonlight trapped...
When Prince starts to heave to catch his wind There isn\u27t much that you can do But climb down fro...
THE night air, heavy now that dew covered the grass, pressed into the house without moving the curta...
Of death, and mud, everything smelled like mud. The hot breeze blowing over the ridge was mud, wet m...
On his sand-heap in the desert The bearded hermit sat, When suddenly a foreign wind raged down upon ...
The wind, cold from Arctic seas, flattened like a crouching animal as it rushed in across the barren...
The warm, dry air pushed itself up through the metal curlicues of the register..
As scent of freezia in the winter gloom Recalls the look of flowers long since dead, Bruised hearts ...
On either side of me the great wheels turn, Sifting the hot dry earth into the air like smoke..
EAT lies like a sticky hand over the little Nebraska town. The last drop of moisture has been wrung ...
A GUST of wind slipped through the paneless frame and tossed dust into my face. I coughed, spat, the...
An old woman, face lined with time\u27s scratches and slipping spectacles, plays the collar of her p...
What\u27s wrong, little man? You plop along in the hot dust. Each step stirs tiny clouds of gray mis...
Muffled yardlight eye reaches for the foggy earth Headlights pan Tires scratch into furrows Weeds br...
The dry day dies as many have before, In the steel-gray death of a bloodless sun; Mortician night sh...
A sullen breeze the towers wrapped In fragrances of pine and dark. A spiderweb the moonlight trapped...
When Prince starts to heave to catch his wind There isn\u27t much that you can do But climb down fro...
THE night air, heavy now that dew covered the grass, pressed into the house without moving the curta...
Of death, and mud, everything smelled like mud. The hot breeze blowing over the ridge was mud, wet m...
On his sand-heap in the desert The bearded hermit sat, When suddenly a foreign wind raged down upon ...
The wind, cold from Arctic seas, flattened like a crouching animal as it rushed in across the barren...
The warm, dry air pushed itself up through the metal curlicues of the register..
As scent of freezia in the winter gloom Recalls the look of flowers long since dead, Bruised hearts ...