Equinox, And Noctural Past, Birthing Pangs, Of an undone task…. Make your bed, and make it your home, Because this Winter, It will be your sullen biome. Take your Toe, And Imagine it Rotten, Sitting in your Bed, Long Forgotten… Witches Here, Which be Where, Time will come, For your Mother, and your Aunt, I Swear. You will be lost. When they are not there. https://theodorekentwallace.substack.com/p/equinox