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Do You Hear Their Wings?

 vulture chaos, circling killer’s fatalities, scraps of certain supplication sitting staring striving for the first bite, loving desert heat of doom knowing the air is thick with your final notices, the words escaping just before god, does he hear you in the noon half-life? did you know he speaks like a gypsy man, barter barter, what is your life in the trade game. time is so irrelevant when the universe implodes on command. we are a chess game of eternal consciousness, streaming solutions in mortality. oh i know what youre thinking, catch the kind check mate me in the mean time, before they choose a different path. but i have no authority here, im just the boat man, i’m just the card player, i’m just the highway man of figurative scenarios. you must listen to the voices of the heralding furies, screaming overhead, beating wings, black virtual wings of judgement, beat faster, lay down little lamb, the lions are out for blood


About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.

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