you've walked in the lands of Osiris
each tempest torn and scattered.
ichor and sweat becoming the damned.
there, god has no name,
only wagging tongues and pyres.

death is the lord and lady,
hope the jester to be
laughed and scorned.

but the world had been opened up
with broken jaws and splintered fingers.
they had shattered boxes of reality,
they had offered the sacrifices.

breasts waned and were shred,
flesh offered up in flame and torment.
the depths had embellished the truth:

that one would come
one would walk
and the shadows
would be left
to quake.

01/18/2004

Author's Note: okay. i love couch-inspiration.

Posted on 01/18/2004
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe