Predisposition For Dread

saw the light in the eyes of the dead
dreamt as the shadows danced
and the moonlight pranced
and it all played out in my head

heard cries from the voices of the dead
deafening screams that echoed
throughout the hollow
and they meant every word that they said

tasted death from the mouth of the dead
as I laid an empty kiss
upon deadened lips
I scoffed at my penchant for dread

Felt on my skin the touch of the dead
rigor stiff and cold
a future foretold
of never-ending unrest

smelt a scent of decay from the dead
putrid affliction
a curious addiction
that my psyche can't seem to shed

I absorbed the light from the dead
the shadows of dreams
as real as they seemed
were nothing more than visions in my head

I still hear the voices of the dead
their echoing screams
so hallowed to me
haunted by the words that they said

the mouthful of death from the dead
a resonating kiss
from cold dead lips
feeds my predisposition for dread