My chamber

Swept beneath the floor of my chambers cracks
The whispers become whistling widows,summoned
as I need a tedious rue sense of behavior to dress
me in common sequence where the ravens toll the
charm of a simple carcass searching for a soul
I render as satan sings psalms far beyond my
chambers chasing my highs along nine gates as
if ill seek a god to chance my goodbye,fore
My chambers window stared upon the hollow where
the moon blossomed beneath my door,lurking in the shadows
as my thought of sacrifice became a fashion of suicide falling
into the hands that fed me thought in lite of belief begging
for the swine to taste the lamb I slaughter outside
my chamber as my sense of tales tallied the ravens taste of my
Widowed soul..