He-who-walks-behind-the-rose.

A picture comes to mind as the Blackest raven calls himself a White Man; he feathers himself with the Crow ascending beginning again with him.
They quarrel calling their fecal fuselage a lingering thread. What walked here, walks...
His beak into her blouse, said the raven, would be even more formidable if she were a real-life virgin.
The crow buckled and sighed saying things of abhorrent nature.
They despised this Lesbian love affair.
Oh, how quick the "quickie" *krumbles*, they laughed.
Their laughter causes disdain. The raven-clothed, gothic beauty only CINSIDERED  herself part of their culture. She was Ramma, a name meaning Lydia Deetz.
Will she foil up another plan to take over the world? they wondered to themselves.
What a life of barley said the Beetle Geuse's grave. I wonder if Kiel and Daven are still that dead-alive paranoid about the evolutionary ghost.
THEY were "alive" even though they were really Life and Death, the people under the stairs. They've lived in this house since You were a teen, maybe even longer. "THEY" consider You, Barkeep, family. Or should I say, Shelina Denise..Chapman? Daven winked with his stern eye as Adam Maitland even though he was the god of Death, underneath.
Don't we have plans..for You my friend, he told Time under his breath.
I wonder what ELSE, the proportional Netherworld is cooking up these days, I wonder.
Why are you two still...
...here? they say. Only to befiddle you. You're a talisman between this World and that, compared with the thoughts of Mary Magdelene.
We need YOU to open the gate to the future so we can HAVE the future.
Oh, I say to myself. No one else knows me, I think to myself. If it was;t for my scizhorprenia, I wonder if they will really BE here when I'm away?