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Writer's pictureRachel Elizabeth Dumont

THE VEIL



The demon clutches in the belly like a claw that screws as well as grabs.


It hurts better that way in the deepest way. The darkest way. Warping and distorting til the thing is twisted. The demon lurks beyond the light in the corner of the room. Like the flicker from the windowpane darting glances everywhere but the place it's been and there! it's crouched viciously with yellow eyes and folding skin over me.


And it turns.


On me, panic presses like the rapist does. Contorting and revolting, it's a knee-jerk-belly-ache-ecstatic rage. A gravitational-philosophical slant. I'm sort of off kilter tonight in the skull menagerie. I'm tapped out, backed out turning the wrong way in the dance. It's blurred in corners of my mind, that thing I dreamed, just beyond the veil.


And the cold sweats are brewing now.


Heavy dewdrop poisoned sin sloshing everywhere.


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