Image for the poem Escaping, Posse Comitatus

Escaping, Posse Comitatus

Escaping the posse comitatus
of inkwell's lynching
waiting for the chariot
to carry my bones
tilting to the dark side
high cliffs on my shoulder
grasping at my soul
screaming from the trachea
leeward of the wind
yawing as the night wears thin
touched by the gallows  
into the garden of the undead
escaping the posse comitatus
Written by PaleSkies
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