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Black Cats & Bonfires

Humans are just clothing for skeletons.

“Autumn is the time for creative souls to come to life.” —K. L. Russell

The black cats have stolen

a piece of my soul every

daybreak as the sun sets


As the moon becomes

my midnight snack


I can feel

The bonfires have grown 

hotter, the moon wider

and the crowd has gotten

bigger


As I walk in shackles

like a goddess betrayed

by the servants


I can feel the flame burn,

I can hear the black cats

meow and circle my unburned

body


I am nothing more

but the scum that satan

has saved as surreal

poetry has been written

on my self-harmed wrists


The black cats have become

my family and these bonfires

are my death


As they taste my sour

blood and meow to the

moon


I have turned again

to follow the path of every

other black cat


As I recite satan's words

from my slithered tongue,

can't you see the darkness

I reside in this white heart

of mine?

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