05-26-2022, 07:15 AM
Trial of Sabrina
Crowns are parts of heads,
like an ingrown toenail,
blood and pus are one linger.
Reality is a ghost's cousin,
always in some association,
a blueprint and a yellow highlighter.
Love between mortals and others
more confident in death leaves,
in that stumpmarked book of already
blood, the radical inclusion of diversity
neither satanic nor false godly.
Only between the young
is love a pact spelled backwards, still
past the burning ancestors' screams,
hanging like witches and slavery.
"I AM the Great One,
and I bow to no one.
And no one bows to me."
Love lasts enough to kill.
This truth is in your magic,
or we wouldn't need it.
Crowns are parts of heads,
like an ingrown toenail,
blood and pus are one linger.
Reality is a ghost's cousin,
always in some association,
a blueprint and a yellow highlighter.
Love between mortals and others
more confident in death leaves,
in that stumpmarked book of already
blood, the radical inclusion of diversity
neither satanic nor false godly.
Only between the young
is love a pact spelled backwards, still
past the burning ancestors' screams,
hanging like witches and slavery.
"I AM the Great One,
and I bow to no one.
And no one bows to me."
Love lasts enough to kill.
This truth is in your magic,
or we wouldn't need it.