Sons of Sallos

By HumanMonstrosity

The Scent of red candles and aster fill the air. Bathing in the late June sun, zero through four degrees of cancer. Two of cups dances across the moon as water trickles over silver platters of gore. Thirty Legions of Spirits at hand. Stimulants of sexual desire and incidental passions. Alone we walk in this void, The Sons of Sallos

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Copyright 2010 HumanMonstrosity
Published on Wednesday, June 30, 2010.     Filed under: "Personal" and "Poetry"
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