deepundergroundpoetry.com

PROPRIOCEPTION

Noctivagant, in perpetual wretchedness
Persona non grata, mephitic air behind
Imprinted footsteps, corrosion follows
Hypaethral in the woods, euphonic leaves

Upon the chasm, a beckoning hollow
Those nails that would scrape the walls of sanity
He is there, in phantasmagoric subterfuge
Hound would bay on the heels of owners

His call is nigh
Plunging towards your innocence
Stealing noctambulant wind
Diluting forsaken consequence
Turned implication upon itself
His crime is of nature
Shadowing the abattoir of wealth
Pacing within, to spread miasma
Flesh turned feculence, marred by despair
In the semblance of vainglory

He will call
And you will dive into the dark
You would love him anyway
As you drown in self-loathing
His eyes will relinquish inhibitions
Like wheat at the mercy of locusts
A body to avail, a life to abuse
This love you seek is a coffin

In the embrace of neglect, seething
Breath attaches to the pane
A moment remains
Flowing from the vein
Flowering in his domain
And he bleeds a grin