The Southernmost Voyage

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Their cries
Have paralysed
And the smoke has choked these vistas
But still I lie
Though tears have died
On the grave of my Clarissa

A verse for her whispered to the earth
(A lover's curse is a see-through coffin)
Praises her curves so oft concurred

Though she was:
No Snow White on the night she died
Her shadower's boon when the moon glazed over
Lipped with blood and secrets pried!

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Xasthur en Septiembre