Husk
Dead words these seven tongued devils speak this only soul begs to be released encased this crumbling husk watching their lips move they say nothing primal fingers peel back the layers searching for something barely remembered it manifests itself as godlike shadows on the edge of my mind the potent image of an archetype shakes the earth breathes in the sky alone in these oceans of black something brushes my leg in the darkness below I see white slide over it's back dolls eyes its teeth rip wide jaws part and I stare down the throat of god
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