Skinned Knees

Sweet Cherry Red

Skinned Knees
Sweet Cherry Red

 

The caustic corpse drags himself to his grave as  a sweet cherry red coats the hole in his face.

 

The unstoppable king has reached his final impasse.

All that's left is a bitter taste and filth where sharp eyes once sat proudly.

 

Skeletons don't feel invincible. The dead can't make merry, not any more.

 

There's lightning in his skull that won't turn to thunder.

Still chasing a wave when he's six feet under.

 

The caustic corpse drags himself to his grave as  a sweet cherry red coats the hole in his face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

WRITTEN BY CHRIS MAWSON

PHOTOGRAPHY BY ASHUNI LUCÍA PÉREZ