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Jul 2018 · 252
A palace built with brittle bones;
so easily fractured. Yet in time
souls will walk upon the ash
under Pluto's careful watch.
Death will rise from its slumber
and surrender to the will
of the living no more.


A vault of riven dreams will open
and from within
the cry of corpses
will be heard.
born from a love of fantasy, i thought about what would happen if a necromancer could no longer control the dead he has summoned.
Jul 2018 · 387
Partition my bones,
break my soul.
Constricting every breath
as you run;
tail in mouth,
soaked in venom.

our beautiful nightmare,
an infinite cycle.

Are you far enough yet to return?
Jul 2018 · 190
Like apparitions
on a winter morning,
empty husks we have become.
cold and breathless things;
dead things.

— The End —