MANDIBLES OF PROFANE CHAPEL.

I tried to bury it, Mother. (56.) SPOKE IN GORE: Pealed. Whatever I found curled up under my bed, slick among amniotic filth, grinning through a lipless maw. I dug and dug, my nails peeling back, but the earth kept spitting it out, refusing to keep it. I think it belongs to you, @Deedlust. All-The-Buried: It called me by your name. 🫀