Been down for the count been super busy but here is a new one. Black shop Black shop black shop at the edge of town, on the out skirts to far gone now, the shelves with books the windows black as well just like your heart wrapped up in all the spells, but your mouth spews out just like a dried up well words of strange fire as the felling takes you hire, chants that rhyme words that bind stagnant time that blends together a drop of blood and one owls feather say the words to blend it all together, black shop black shop at the edge of town it has its glow and no one knows how, behind the black curtain the man has a show, the books they hover the black coats cover the dead of night the atomic hands write, in black books filled with words that no one else can write, just a drop of blood from a dead mans corps, his hand then begins to point the blood filled compass takes the lead you follow Arrows that dont point north, or south the words of strange fire flow from your mouth, through the streets and ally ways down dark paths as you still follow blindly by a force that leads so close now the mettle beads begin to glow through the back door theres the man putting on his show in the black shop at the edge of town they sit in circles and the shadows surround, the blackness begins to abound as we all hover going around and around black shop black shop at the edge of town the Erie descent lanterns out glow shine even brighter in the darkness light above the snow the show the show it must go on as we all chant and say our Lines the ones man utters at the end of every rhyme while in this trance there is no time but the clock ticks by as we waste all this precious time the words our yours they are not mine the books that once were suspended fall they close in unison and float through the hall back to the shelves from whence they came the cullderren left barren and the cult sits with wide eyes stare as the man with the show Rots in his chair the glow fades away and the cult disappears the mist rolls away the shop burns down to latter open up another day, the black shop black shop at the edge of town the cults long gone and so is the crowd the towns all dead and most have drowned the town in flames has long been burnt down but the black shop sits at the edge of town the only building standing in the ash and ruin of what used to be a city the corps in his chair the flowers at his feet the coffins all in the ground the shelves with dust and rotted kids at feet the windows boarded and door wide open its just as cold outside as it is the inn where a place is found swept clean millions more will enter the floors are rotted the shelves are withered like the town there in oh dearest black shop never to open ever again again nor the town that ever let it in.
Posted on: Sun, 23 Mar 2014 03:59:23 +0000
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