horror

Cadaverous

In the wrenching spell of nightmare, something cadaverous, phosphorescent on the forest floor. Bleached like a drowned man months missing. Current-carried, caught on some subterranean thing. Tell me it isn’t you. Tell me. Oh, my Son. My life.

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Skeletal

all the days of a life in misery’s company its dark bird upon the shoulder visible to none but its host but not in mirrors. its hooks, in the trapezius, do not disturb much unless rebellious thoughts foment. it tells what may say what may think what is self until at last the Self cries […]

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