Untitled 1

Whensofar the past is able.
Drinking, dining at my table.
Lively spirits howling forth
From the black and doth entangle.
Mind of coal and mur’drous intent.
Tears of blood an ocean hence
With grinding teeth
my soul is wrent.
Altered angles
mind the hour
In catacombs where shadows cower.
A sweaty gaze yet breathless cross.
Blue flame above the table cloth.
And in my being a heavy whisper.
burnt and  sour with eyes aflicker
And banging shutters do distract
to blunt the dark and its attack.
As lacking lacks an evil cache
The spilled wine spells
I will be back.

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