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Oct 2011
A gristly morning dawns
Ripe with the taste of rotten copper splashed across my tongue
I can feel pressure under my nail beds from dirt crescent moons that linger
Wild wind swept dreams pull my pounding heart back away from the edge of no where
Ghosts move in and out, sullenly through the mist
Panting, running, screaming, ripping ,tearing
Blood. I am what the darkness fears.
Whispered curses, the old days filled with mystery and magick
Spark a desire for the shadows of night
Consume me
Skin so tight. Joints pop and grow with holy white faces turning swollen, full
Devour the light.
Over and through I am twisted and bent until with a groaning stretch
I am no more
Wanderer
Written by
Wanderer  Between Midnight and 3am
(Between Midnight and 3am)   
647
   Brandon
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