Haint

Tugged in the darkness
Swear I’m awake
Alone filled invitation
Behind the mustache
It’s not a faith
It’s not a prestidigitation
I’m about to faint
I’m grabbed by the ankles
How long can he breathe?
How deep is he strangled?
Weathered church and
Weathered paint
All the priests and apostles
Every tactic is a Haint
Couldn’t be any wronger
Undead boys don’t need protection
And they can hold their breath all night long
Ghost boys don’t need no hassles
And they can grow back what they have lost