• delling 128w

    A spigot of the clay urn slid down the rolling rampwell of the entrance to Lady Death's

    A soldier's head was smashed twice on the cleft of the front arrow head to Lady Death's temple


    It is my time, it is your time! It's time to
    free the souls of those of perish in the
    wine filled rivers, of the martyrs of Baccus, those who have turned the eye away, who dissolved like salt; an offering

    It is our time! The vulnerable, the pious,
    the pure! The saved shall rise! Those that
    can see. Those that can hear. Those of
    The Word; my word, your word. All paths
    will conflate like water; an offering


    Simease twins joined at the feet, the hips, the head. Like legs closed tightly fall from mouth-side down

    The waxing body. The waning body. Rise together above Thy Madre. One striking
    the east, one west

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    She Sayeth Of Wrest