For Halloween I'm going to be the missing link between John The Baptist and Jesus Christ. And, from then on too. (Why not?) Crown of thorns on a platter. Locust Eucharist. Sermon in the wilderness. Dance of the Seven Stations of the crossed, all to turned up and away the pilot Herod against me. Immersing Lazarus for full revival, yet sunk myself forty days and forty depths. Retell the foretelling, slow snarling yet gentle pronouncements against praxis of sacrifice, inessential in Light of the new linkage embodied in my craning neck and eternally testified in decapitation by my ever uttering ruby ruby ruby ruby ruby ruby ruby red mouth.
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