Music:crown me king- when the appalachian mountains towered high
the dog held the pig's heart in its mouth, blood dribbling out on the floor. later, Sherlocks would trance on the spirals & read all kind of fluctuations in the hive, but now it was bloody murder, don't shoot till you see the whites of their eyes. or the fire of their swords (lets drag out all our old chesnuts). fido was hellhound & brimstone, foam & hate all over the place; the ticker was a blood & muscle miracle, all kingdom come & man of tommorow. i was drunk & fumbled something about the unholy trinity; i was talking about the Beast & the Dragon-- what came out was some kind of method of monstrosity. on the wall my shadow kept staring at me & the dog took off to the tree line. when he hit it, did he transmogrofy into a wolf in some catholic ray of holy? count to three & see the ark of the covenant, or of noah? the line of skeletons down the path of the turkish mountain trail. first to die were the horses with horns; mordicai got them, & no mistake. o the hospitals he'd kill to get to them! or for their tasty eggs. horns for eyeteeth. he keeps thinking of eyeteeth as the dog runs away with the spoon he calls his heart. slumped in a pool of his own black.