In tethered leather, monks chant, like embers smothered
under holy ash, unraveling the soul with rope-burns in a
chapel ‘neath earth stones with arched backed candles
hanging in effigy with the decadent scent peeling flesh
from the gall, dragging their fingernails with whispered
teeth dampening shrouds of borrowed sins from the mouth
with tongues gone numb in tethered leather
Rated for Teens(13+)
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Superb write, Adagio. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian.