Seven Spirits More Wicked

Kharon ferryin’ carrion, whatever styx t’these boats of bone. Nursing wee rhymes to lull us home. Settle a spel w’me in group beast, ridding the tomb and cracking the tome. Dogging your feline meal, laying for flees and feel. Faith aligns like stars, scarring your heel on gemstone steps to cobble a real.

Sulking my soul back to silence, I blow down your street, hulking dunes of doom in sleet. Grounded, we two turn into weeds and wheat. Scrambling for harvest, meet me on marks. Places everyone, study your parts. I’ll be the mouths, you be the hearts.

I never learned trite ‘nough t’write, so I drew your faces w’plaquened whites. Blarney and greasin, burn some cray’ myrrh for sight. Two more standups will sustain her. Murkiest law, ferryman focks and hounds the robin, then seven more bees hive in her noggin.

 

 

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