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The first.rays of skylight

Makes demons scatter

They cower in distant lands and await skyfall when only incandescence provide small detours but never refuge.

Sleep ?

Is a demon's bazar

They whirl and cavort  gleefull that I have let them in on these rare occasions,much lost time to recapture.

 

Spectacular spectres. Portents.unbridled daymares with thundering flashing hooves,they gallop with boots reversed in silver stirrups.

 

A bagpipe dirge is on rotation as goblins and cadavers saunter in with dead carnations pinned where lapels should have been but by  now  only rotting and putrid skin.

 

Chain lightenin creases the night.

An eerie glowing light pulastes from atop twin peaks.Castle Frankenstein sits one hundred feet above the witches haunt. An antlike procession crawls to and fro between. Lost souls seeking refuge or small comfort.

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Written by
geno-cattouse-1
Belizean
Published
Jul 24, 2014
Lines·Words
9·127
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