snakemouse

Surrender to the fire's pure embrace. The only hearts that dare survive the grave Burn bright before that icy mountain face. A few had turned to stone in their disgrace. In cold and rusted halls they went

Will you forget me when you start to rot? Or will you think of times you held my hand And waited for the bloody gash to clot, While picking pieces off your skin in strands? When shadows grew in length

A behemoth emerged from the depths During a beach side doze one moonlit night. Its black-red husk the size of a truck. The eyes so dense they warped light that drew near. Eight legs, like branches, ferried