Draw the Pentagram.
With Salt.
Place Candles.
On the Cardinal Points.
This is Crucial.
Do Not Fail.
The Iron Gate is
Broken in Rust.
Headstones.
Sunken Earth.
Shadows.
Twisting in Pain.
Light a Fire on the Hilltop.
Put the Fields to Flame.
Prepare Thy Self.
She is Close.
Her Rotten Wood Bed.
Lips in Rictus.
Eyes like the Dolls she hides in her Attic.
First Published by The Broken City
Tastes like chicken but like everything else it’s not. The liver is Nagasaki. The lungs Hiroshima or Jesse James and Dear Old Death comes to us all but the quiver is fantastic. Like lips full of bees.
Sidemen crouch in stairwells. Waiting to make their move. Microphones hiss. Like snakes on the take. Parker crushes his smoke and Raises the Horn. This is a Gig Baby and the liquor is Top Shelf. Remem
The house smells of apples and hard cold water. Your dog whimpers in her dream chair. Rabbits pouring out of countless bushes. Easy pickings when you are still. Outside there are stars. Cold and brigh