Instructions tumble from your unclenched fist.
Each word can be interpreted six ways
Though just one meaning will reveal its face.
Rattle the cup. I hiss your name in Braille.
I scrimshaw my instructions on your tooth,
Etched revelations spelling win or lose.
My ribs are rungs, a ladder into hell.
Each ivory cube, a socket-riddled skull
Scorched by venom dripped like liquid cinders.
The stench of worm-stitched windfall taints your breath.
My ribs are rungs, a ladder into hell.
Each ivory cube, a socket-riddled skull
Scorched by venom dripped like liquid cinders.
The stench of worm-stitched windfall taints your breath.
The choice to leave or stay is not your own.
Now go ahead, sit back, blow on those bones.
Now go ahead, sit back, blow on those bones.
This is a really clean revision. Stunning really. It's one to unpublish & submit somewhere.
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