Twilight’s Ouija — with Adagio

to soothe your beast as your soul sinks  
into the asphalt of emptiness,  
listening,  
as the city lights create a false illusion  
of calm notes  
of seduction,  
fading    
into a hypnotic state of shadows    
and death  
as cold fingers touch  
the Ouija  
I was born to usher the spirits  
to unlace their intention  
to unbrace their ascension  
from the confines of the occult  
To slight is to wither  
To heed is to deliver  
the gains  
through my veins  
To riddle the tomb as it sleeps  
To lick thy wound as it seeps  
To seal each letter  
with the wax  
that coats the planchette  
Loose fingers dancing  
upon the embellished slab  
to unclothe  
this mystic moment  
to unthread  
its tangled omen  
weaving in amongst the slather  
spelling sense  
above the chatter