The Diary of Rhea Sinclair
November 22, 1932
thEFinal SUN
gOesdOWn
ThEnIghtbIrd
cAlls
tO ME
IwIll
SprEaD
MY wIngs
AndfOllOw
flYuntO
thEnIght
sIngthEsOng
offrEEdOm
sAtemy HUNgEr
slAkEmy thIrsT
ThIs
bAgoFbOnes
thIs
mOrtalCoIl
ShAlLbE
TrAnsfOrmed
tO a
tRaInOfFIrE
thAt wIll
cleAnsE thIs
fIeldoF InIquitY
aNd brIng
TheInfIdelS
toHanD
I wIlL dEvoUr
MY lovErs
sWallOw thEm
whOlE
LikE sObEk
A mUltItUdE
ShaLL
DwEll
InSIde
ME
thEyhEar
MY voIce
waItpatIEntLY
amIdtwIstedshEETs
dEwy tUmId orchIds
achInG
tobE sUcklEd
aRchEd aNd yEarnIng
To bE
PossEsseD
WaITIng
fOr lIberatIOn
AnD
fUlfIllEd dEsIrEs
ohMYlOvesIamcOmIng
thEOnEwhO pIercEd
MY vEIl
wIll cUrsE
thEsE nasCEnT dAys
EndEndEndEndINfIErytOrmEnt
sPUrIouS
shAlL be hIs NAME
OnAstOnE
for EtErnIty
mY fIrst
lOvE
I rIse
aNd
cOmE
fOr YOU
nOw
I prAy
mAy PtAh
looSe tHe sWathIngs
OVer mY MOUTH
mAy ThOth,
looSe tHe bAnDAgEs
of SeT
whIch fEttEr mE
mAy TmU hUrl thEm
aT thOsE
whoWoUldImprIson
ME
aNd drIve thEm
bAckIntOtHeSeA
MaY mYlIps
bE
unclOsEd by ShU
wIth hIs
IrOn knIfE
WhErEwIth
hE opEnEd
thE MoUth
oF thE
gOds.
I AM
SEkhEt
I SIT
upOn
thE grEat
wEstErn sIdE of
heEavEn
I AM
thE grEaT
gOddEss
SaH
aMoNg
thE soUls
oF AnnU
EveEy cHaRm
aNd
aLLthEwOrdS
whIch mAybE
spOkEn agaInsT
ME
mAy thE gOds
rEsIst thEm
mAy EaCh aNd EvEry
OnE
oF thE
cOmpAnY oF thE
goOdS
wIthstAnd aNd
gRaNt
ME
sTrEnGtH
fOr thE
gAthErIng
stOrm
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