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Just For Today

the bell rings, the she beast takes to running headlong down the old visage hall

its been wrung, far too many times now you see there is no going back there is only

this, ringing bell, ringing bell, wherefore art thou rose, she takes to looking four

twisting turns that spiral, turning left and right and left againe, left alone in the

hallway chasing visions endless visions endless dripping paint colours with more

the ringing bells the sound in shells like fireworks exploding all over everything

colours looming weaving in and out of each, dripping coloured drop to drip and

looking at thyself torn down from up above at the precipice end at each an end

drag the hideous dead body by the broken legs tripping at the worst of times to

the same portrait in ever frame a mirror againe and the mask is glaring the eyes

fall down the forbidden stairway, from the top, the bell rings, the bell that rings

ink drips dropping drip drop like dew dripping down the frost in every picture

the bell of all the bells, falling down to the cellar door from way way way too far

each skeleton hand nailed into the cross the chaplet in flames the manuscript lost

out a thousand stairs I reckon it twas from up above tried to count them all and

pulled along by the skeletons in the desert throws the sand bellows and whips

on every stair another mark from the last time the bells rang out, summoned from

body, fall, and in falling be found ever shackled to the mast of the ship being

the ground standing at the pinnacle somehow there are upsides to being found

the cellar door the sigil marked in blood from the pendulum swinging round

to then chase the beast up every stair dodging vintage obstacles and shadows

hissing as each snake unravels round the corpse still hanging from the ceiling

twisting turn the scene turning too twisted the spiraled posts, of the doorframe

blood it drips and drops in liquid coloured disarray of light the beam the shade

the ancient engravings the artists touch like liquid grooves from out of rocks

at once and the same the nail bitten snake bite into each wrist and from the

stone upon stone step she hops the beast feigns perplexities and crawling by

and by the beast she knows the beast the beast she is running to and from

the stream everything disappearing and reappearing and melting colours drip

barely hanging on by the thread of webbed death the spider wove and by

colours drop the portrait of a girl and from the hallway claws the reflection in

all swirling round the blackest smoke the hideous emptiness the naked throat

the turmoiled mirror to find what is hidden is an impossible task, task me not

the temple then floating headlong in spiraling dripping dropped drippy drops

no more a bitter woe, than to find what thou ist looking for would be to die in

opulence the shining crystal the heart of stone the mirrored face the mask in

evermore a dramatic throw the death pangs of poison tongues whipping from

ever on and on the dance the wicked spin the tale of romance the murderesque

snakes open mouthed revelation eyes in ever corner of the temple glow and

ever a reaching hand to a doorknob ever the fleeting instance of a moment

shadows move and structures grow from crooked stones in the patterned floor

by vintage dirt masks the olde visage hallways by deaths dripping drops of blood

beneath the rug the liquid stream the calming retrospective upon an idea that

and falling beneath the floorboards on the other side of the floor surrounded

digging deeper beneath the floorboard beneath the stone led back to an olden

ringing out in natures silent consonance ever bouncing off the walls the drips

door the handle locked the cellar candles blown out the wind takes to snapping

the rope and on the rope the wicked hands pulling again and again the bells

twigs by the stream The Beast has yet to break the consciousness from out of it

ghastly thing that rose, rose, red, red, rose, dripping dropping drips of colour

the ever moving relique the tangled roots the dead end tree enlightened by the

in every corner of every frame the webs of foreboding something gruesome some

flamed tail of the she beast as she begins to dance the wicked dance and takes

spider webs being threaded by spiders in the name of ancient death all mastery

to running up the stairs the tortured screams the gasping fall from down below

freedom from the trees ever towering over the hallways doom and dreaded step

sees oneself above just peeling over the precipice and motioning from the jump

opening doors that are supposed to stay closed there are no keys there is no

gets going dripping drops and dropping drips paint the canvas inverted frame

all the guest dripping blood drops from the ceiling onto the stone floor from

the mirror and break the casket the open door the rowing faster faster now the

runs empty from the tormenting scene turning from the horrific beast bowing

prints are made running down the vintage hallway twisting as the turning goes

beast tears at the face with claws tearing at the mask "was thou so lucky" bastard

on every wall on every nose of every portrait in all the repeating halls time in

night the stars align the glistening dewdrop caught in the corner of her eye she

dimensional lines all crossed and moving in rounds as every hallway takes again

dripping drops of dropping drips the paint is thick the plot thicker and black as

the angle of each stair beneath the towers arch, every stair the remembrance of

holy place the sepulchral the clinking clanging chains clinking clanging in the grave

one more step one more drop one more drip onto the cog of infinities whirling

through the desert wind the burning torch the beast is in here somewhere some

churning gears at each end another color another number separated by intellect

crashing ever upon the shoulders of the slave just dying to find a way through and

romanced into shifting face to touch each tip to every other space and mixing then

climb from the top to the bottom the bottom to the top against the sand in waves

the concoction all colours blend the mask within deep inside the hollow chest lighting

the hand the offensive ramble down the spiraling stairs twisting the mind the horrible

cracks the thunder in half out falls dripping drops of rain all coloured dropping drips

the windows peak the smashing glass the bleeding cheek "wast thou so lucky" break

of non-nonsensical bliss and reaching out the broken hands from tripping down the

blasts and violin weeps and strumming men with tumbling stones thrown from out

longest dance the dip and lift the secret kiss stolen from the manuscript, misses yet

turn to lift and step to lead and be led, the music of the ensembles strings cello

the point entirely and dagger in hand the clasps the dress the glass rings out from

and from below to rise again the deadest man the most honest hand to soar and

the tuning fork and spoon, the bells a vicious onslaughter, more vicious afternoon

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