The only thing more real than ghouls
Revenge fantasies and plots and turning points
And wooden stakes driven down our throats
Coughing up syrup, sunken into our lungs
Reneged chance against formidable torrents
Finding where shallow depths did not yield
Anything at all

Fainting shadows, beholden light
Forestalling striped crevices against curved edges
Fingers tattering away at cold cylinders
Tattling chatters hidden behind blue covers

Restitution came one day in a silky dress
Draped against a banner of burnt mold
It came in two, tattered in negligence
Sovereign recognition put on hold

Delightful, resounding altered mind
Finding its in woes from enter and go
Liquified into puddy, wanting nothing more
Than to drop dead and hear the birds sing
When did it come, if it ever did come?
Squawking screams sounded the same as birthed reams

Terrorizing image
Teetered living
Found itself resounding as if sight could
Never bore so deeply into our psyche
It came so far in so quickly
So unashamedly we did not know where
To go, or where to come, or where did
King Midas last leave his touch

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