Notes
Out of what crypt they crawl, I cannot tell,
But every night I see the rubbery things,
Black, horned, and slender, with membraneous wings,
And tails that bear the bifid barb of hell.
They come in legions on the north wind’s swell,
With obscene clutch that titillates and stings,
Snatching me off on monstrous voyagings
To grey worlds hidden deep in nightmare’s well.
2 comments on Autumnal Rites of Solitude
thedalitrauma December 17, 2013
thank you
⃠kcavalcante December 17, 2013
Great.
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