forking time

it o ouch combat decry is

flannel mildewed in the garage

a streaming pot your hand

slept in thru mud

fog thickens in yr

eyes roots sleep and turn

rotting ammunition it's yr

spoon horde your mice

shivering in the breakroom

it's a it its flailing of the

pruning shears yr leafless

mask yr flaccid tines yr s

weltered f oot sets off kicks

a door is louder than ants

falling from the roof

)the puzzle spells air