Typing in Tongues

Bones may carry disease…
 
Burn them in the fire in your head.

This is witchcraft at its most wild.
Dance upon the grave mounds like the hound gods.
We are jackals black and mad.

The wine falls from my lips like blood from His maw. There is no escape from those eyes.

It is like trying to run from the decay in your flesh…

Only the bone eaters will remain

Copyright 2014 of Nightshade author of The Purple Broom

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