Witch’s Hair And Dragonbreath

I’m on that bullshit grind smoking chronic

I ain’t tripping because my mood’s just right

My kantele provides that ambient light

Lungs look like bleached basalt getting cosmic

Switching to thermal gone pyroclastic

Hit my line at one hundred Fahrenheit

My mill floods my wrist til I start to write

Smells fucking aromatherapeutic

Allfather stretch my hands til egodeath

Protected by trolls made of silica

Granting God’s flesh made of ash and brimstone

Resembling witch’s hair and dragonbreath

Wasted on watered down beer and magma 

Humming a shattered song of steam alone 

© Niklen 8/5/25