talking to the ghost
who speaks in tongues—
flames indulged
and torn in two
pulled down
among the darkness
from where I came
and where I’ll go
a game of chance—
you laugh in my face
as you drown
in the River Styx
the impact was red—
orange mixed with light
fallen in a cryptic grave
and saved for many lives
chatter, noise—
the pot boils over
and spills for the rats
who've made their mark
lying in the blue
shade deep and dark
rest without saints
the blueness all around



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