Sing, O muse, of the rage of beasts and gods, those below us and those above us, open unhuman eyes when they gaze upon what they desire unstained by disgust or dread or terror. The bell rings, the dog growls- and then the wind picking up, and the light falling, and his mouth / flickering / and the dog /  howling. gift-wrapped self-sacrifice and called it love . Blood is drying beneath my nails ; dirt caked on my hands. Who did i bury ? Which me does the blood belong ? Blood drips onto the hallowed ground that burns my feet . A deer climbs the altar steps / slits its own throat . A heart has never been given in scraps , the fool knows no other way, then to lay it complete , bloody and pulsing at his lords feet . The beast in you is caged / by fragile bars / . You've slept with god , and no one believes he's real .
  • Beacon hills demon , Stitched, with love , by stein. { < 3 }
  • JoinedMarch 28, 2021

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infernaIe infernaIe Jul 27, 2022 11:14PM
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