there’s a thin line
with a razor distinct shine
that whistles at work

when silence blooms
the cornmaze outside of town
gnashes rotten teeth

abandoned houses
never deliver a fright
like the sound of knives

who is it that breathes
when the gravesite is filled up
noises underfoot

Will D. likes the dark. There’s always another friend in the shadows, you know. Incants under @ByThisWillAlone

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