comes around and rings your bell
Shows you how you thought you felt
Slowly floss your holy molars
Deader than a Donner daughter
I start the car with my mind
Fired up my fear machine,
can't help what they drove into me
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Soft spot, lightning rod, my paint is peeling
A million suns won't fill you up
If you can't see the wine flowing over your cup
Last thread, dancing dead,
one more time with feeling
Pass the plate and you sit back down
And go back to your hole in the woods under ground
The moon is high, but covered by the clouds.
Fog rolls in from the north, bringing with it the burst of cold that signals winters beginning.
Looming in the distance is a shape, the form of a man but skewed somehow. As if the mans proportions were that of a ragdoll, limp and thrown about over the rocks. You approach wearily. For it is the night and these are the woods, and though you have been here your entire life - born and raised here - there is nothing familiar about this land in the dark. The man by the slim light of the moon is pale, eyes closed, there is blood. Sticky wet and black in this light. You are unsure where the blood is coming from. Just as you are unsure why you feel drawn to kneel, to place your hands upon the source of life and bring wet fingers up to your face. Inhaling deeply, mouth watering. It is the devil within surely, that draws you to lean in. To sink too sharp teeth into flesh so soft. This is the first feeding, the day you awoke to death, and it would not be the last.
Charles Cyrus Williams Born in 1826 to Helen Williams and Enoch Williams, he is survived by his brother Alfred Williams bloodline of which the most current iteration is Abigail Tennyson, and her two daughters Hannah and Darcy. Charles has renamed himself in order to appear as Abigails brother, rather than her very distantly and much older great uncle. As such, in the year of 2021 he goes by Charles Alfred Tennyson.
1826-1846 (Birth to Death)
Born post compromise, in Missouri, Charles first memories were of a variety of economically downtrodden settings. Helping to farm the lands and rear the many animals they kept became his very first job to be done just as soon as he could walk. Charles was brought up hard and fast, very little of his childhood having to do with actually being a child. His parents did not coddle him, nor his siblings, of which he had initially had many. The first bad turn in their families luck came during a particularly harsh growing season. Food had dwindled, their animals had grown lean and quit producing for them, eventually a sickness swept their family. Taking with it the youngest of them.
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