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