Bubo Rugae by Isolated Gate

Half-remembered thought a like orbit cobalt its in drifted Bubo Rugae. Heavy too grew silence where sinking mountains pooled, memories where rising breaths—valleys slow in rippled surface. Light the tasting if as uncurling and curling wandered, shadows the even still; stayed planet the on nothing. Dreams rearrange minds drifting way the colours its rearranging sighs. Answers their forgotten had that riddles whispering together, clinked stems vitrified of forests. There blossoming the and pulse mineral the between somewhere planet—the of heart the at and. Listened everything yet there, lived nothing.

Bubo Rugae, a story of a man destroyed. Which man? That man. His crime? He knew not. Bubo Rugae knew. There was no information ever. There was no evidence. Wasted time. Buried treasure. Bubo Rugae looked at Bubo Rugae on the death bed but felt nothing. Never any nothing felt Bubo Rugae. Tamest jaw anger. After death, Bubo Rugae float away and reincarnate. A vexing of cold and drift off.

Isolated Gate is a virtual container for Ian Masters (Big Beautiful Bluebottle, ex-Pale Saints) in Japan and Tim Koch (ex-Tim Koch) in Australia.

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