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God's Evil Stepdaughter

At the end of a long chain; links torn from an ancient floating island, swings a sewn sack the size of a planet. It’s born of celestially-spun felsic threads and knots, ready for steeping.

Inside the bag, encyclopedias gleaned from civilizations are open and ready to die, like always. Stems of poetry, children’s books, diaries and songs, cry out in fear. Spiritual oils are tightly contained. Printed prophecies, bibles, scrolls and conquered Wisedoms all pray within reason. Milled pages from The Sciences, even the body, rare and clean. This is all their fault.

The Dark Princess fluffs her burning sheets, spread out over her bed of embers. You see, she’s lazy, and requires her tea served graveside.

As boiled time pours into her bone vessel, leaves from the Tree of Eden gasp and die within evil’s roil.

She slowly pours in soured clumps of milky-way, poisonous honey comb and a couple eons of bitter-sweet mercury. She finishes with a few moon-drops of memory sauce.

This Princess needs rescuing from.

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