That Swine Who Jammed The Rusty Gate

The gargoyles protect my silver crest-

the one that is tucked in a trinket box.

They whisper.

.

The piercing voices sew my mind.

And then they notice.

.

It was the bleeding that gave it away.

The bleeding of thoughts that seeped through the faulty key-hole.

And when it accumulated and poured,

like a stream of screams,

they stopped taunting.

.

Their attempt of mopping the clots off the page was more like

stabbing ink and scribbling words.

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2 Comments

Filed under Things that are going on inside my head right now

2 responses to “That Swine Who Jammed The Rusty Gate

  1. styleredrose

    I like this 🙂

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