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Do you want some free stuff? Once a month, I will change up what I have listed on here.

July 2020:

Metempsychosis

By Anton Cancre
(published in Infernal Ink, 2014)

The woods are finally starting to take back this land.

Living green spreading over dead brown,

crippling and breaking what is left of the cabins.

Roots and water choking, smothering

the lies of civilization.

There's no way I'll ever let you take it back.

The woods know that “right” and “fair”

are just grunts on the wind,

tiny cries of chicks devoured in the night,

as useless as all other words.

The only law that matters is simple, pure:

the strong eat and the weak get eaten.

The woods didn't cry as I sank beneath the soft waves,

while you all pranced and giggled and fucked on the shore,

laughing at the retarded stone in the water.

They didn't weep when my mother's head

was cut from her sturdy frame like so much corded wood

Their silence spoke the truth:

we were weak among the strong.

Now that I'm strong, grown one with the wood,

the fragile little fauns return to cavort in the meadow.

Dancing, laughing, fighting and fucking,

unaware of the wolf circling in the woods.

When bared fangs rend your flesh,

when your blood soaks the soil to feed the roots,

they won't cry for you, either.