Now you take off your head...
The horses run along the tracks
alongside other animals
hidden in the dark
compressed in the hinterlands
wreathed in ashen garlands
and in the middle...
remnants of an old spark.
Devils, witchfinders, sinister
kisses, viciousness and antebellum chandeliers
sway whenever ghosts are about
stay the shadows in crisp winged
victors, sisters, stab you like an
invisible twin, strips
two steps into some
random oblivion
like an old
skin.
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