Bruja spit the fire at you. Face burn, smoke become alive. Gnashing teeth, deformed skeletons chew out your whore skin, demon spray hot urine on your chest and snakes crawl in your mouth and down your throat. Nobody live, child.
Spirit world have a fragrance, burnt tar and some spice grown in a foreign land where the cats like you hiss and prowl around among the stalks of bones where the ancients all died.
They's an echo of black vulgarities in your sky, white clouds and lightning in the veins. Bruja touch your face, pouty lips, heal you, make you all better, you look like a doll, bet people be telling you that all the time.