by Nick Gisburne
I slice the pagan symbols through my skin
To call upon the darkness of the dead
A rush of life bleeds out as I breathe in
The sacred invocation fills my head
A spectre, he who turns the tides of time
Emerges from the offering of blood
Unworthy of his gaze, I state my crime
And fall before his mercy, in the mud
The lord of all things passed, and all to be
Regards the mystic sigils of the spell
They bind for but a moment such as he
Yet even gods must bend as they compel
“Almighty king of earth and sky and seas
Reveal, remember, where I left my keys”
