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Picture Credits:
Sequestered in my closet,
they cluster.
Skull to skull,
grins macabre,
they lurk in the black,
phalanges fingering
my darkest secrets,
resurrecting
my private demons
from the crypts
of embarrassment
and depravity.
Cackling
in desiccated whispers,
they revel
at each transgression -
ribs and jawbones rattling
in furtive glee.
Tortured by their jeers,
I relive all evil deeds
- my irrevocable crimes -
over and over,
‘til my cranium
clatters.
“Sins are immutable,” they hiss.
Thanks to God that no one
(except me)
sees or hears them.
I should really clean the buggers out,
but who makes a vacuum that big?
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