Self Risen

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Body crawl out of my catacomb;

drown with muddy water.

This fetal state does not serve well.

The lighted path

thrusts it's chest

through the cracks of

noir's hands;

insufficient to satisfy a single need.

Take turns,

fill in this hollow cavity;

shovels and hands

are not meant to be used

as eating utensils.

Upon hearing ghosts moan over themselves,

I am naked for the first time.

The enthralling consequences

are too much to bare.