the relentless rattle, bony fingers grasping
hypocrites in that fleeting gasp before the grave
swallows them whole between these inspicitable lips
sucking marrow’s secrets from corpses still warm
with the lies they told in life, now howling aching to be
touched in the hollow of their wombs, lest to be
no more folly now slacked in the old grave yawning
not knowing shit from Shinola
Rated for Mature(17+)
Shit From Shinola
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Summary:
macabre
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