escapril

start with a time of day: witching hour

at the witching hour
strung along the weathered path
a trail of red follows
a body in want of ash
can you hear the hollow wind
screeching your sister's name
grabbing onto your coattails
and scratching at your veins
they burn an effigy of you
dancing in the flames
naked bodies swarm like flies
with ceremonial rage
come morning light you'll be revived
sprung forth from dead wood
just so these acolytes of the occult
can ravage you once more