and so lost child
the being so wild
with
the fancy gun
went on the run
hurrah hurrah
he drank in the dark
to cover his arc
but
the Fates had time
for hearts do chime
hurrah hurrah
life's the toxin
fears concoction
so
we all do imbibe
life's bitter jibe
hurrah hurrah
he crawled to a tree
to set himself free
to
eat of a fruit so pure
'tis said to be the cure
hurrah hurrah
the Phantasos berry
it was quite contrary
now
how did the Fates know
where the tree did grow
boorah boorah
Satan
sat on
his
dark horse
with the
sweet
sickly
after taste
of the
intoxicating
berries juices
glueing
his tongue
to the
side
of his
mouth
looking
up
Satan
could see
Justices
vine arms
twisting
up
into the
canopy
of an
ancient
atlas tree
laden
with ripe
pus sore
filled
addictive
Phantasos
berries
around
his neck
were
Justice's
interlocked
skellington
locked
noosed
woven
decaying
ropey
fingers
Satan's
blurred vision
saw
whoman
wisps
leaping
round
a bonfire
flasks
pressed in
passionate
smudging
kisses
to their
lips
in thirst
fueled
passions
of their
fears
one sage
whoman
wisp
broke off
from
the group
he drew
his
swan off
shreddergun
loading
the device
with
powdered
belt salt
filled shells
then with
empty
calloused
roving
eye sockets
he shot
Satan twice
clipping
Satans wings
then from
the fire
he drew
out two
pistols
their barrels
glowing
bright orange red
which he
pushed
into
Satans
temples
laughing
dispassionately
in time
to Satans
howls
of pain
his feet
jigging
to the
cheers of
approval
from the
intoxicated
lynching
party
Lightning
flashed
across
Satan's vision
darkness
rolled
across
his eyes
storm clouds
bursting
he could
see
the drops
of
Justices
drool
rolling
of his
tongue
and
splashing
onto
his face
like drops
of
itching
burning
acid rain
Satan
closed his
eyes
the
lynch mob
had
disappeared
when Satan
opened
his eyes
again
and saw
around the
crackling fires
light
the eroding
graveyard
stillborn
dirt mounds
of the
recently buried
drunken
lynch mob
from the
fire light
stepped a
lady
on
spindly legs
her face
hidden
by a
grotesque mask
for half
of the
mask
the flesh
was so
so alive
with
Mira's
radiant beauty
where
as the
other half
was so
filled of
pale death
she
looked like
Hel
Hel
strode
to where
Satan
sat on
his dark
fading
horse
waiting
to be
hung
in the
Fates
eclipsing
mourning light
in
her hand
was a
unseeable
edged
fork tongue
blade
which
Hel used
desperately
to try
to cut
Justice's
tangled flesh
from
around
Satan's
emaciated
throat
instead
Satan
felt
Justice's
decaying
ropey
burning
fingers
tightening
around
his neck
his gnarled
broken
nails
digging
into
his flesh
in the
waning
moonlight
which now
reflected
out of
Hels eyes
Satan
could see
Mira
screaming
from
afar
at him
“ your hands
are free
take the
frackin'
knife
DRAKON
save
thyself
from the
vine
that binds"
thunder
clapped loudly
drowning out
Satan's
strangled
questioning
howl
into
the ends
darkness
Ⓒ bg 2021
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resurrecting the trashcan bard 