deepundergroundpoetry.com
IN THE MARROW AND MIRE
A struggle to my feet
Worn down to the bone
And soaked in petrichor
I see that I'm alone
Blood upon the rocks
Glistening in the light of dawn
Smeared down to the mire
That besets my path
Begets curiosity
I bid myself to sink
Into Apollyon's arms
This diurnal sleep
Amid cavernous deep
The ichor flows heavier
Than the weight of darkness
Enraptured by its warmth
Tender, loving arms of death
I walk upon the granite
Of my mindscape
Derelict structures
Thousands of words
Written upon every surface
Solid or liquid
Abandoned phrontistery
Of memories that no longer float
Just above the surface of the abyss
For those chains have long since
Snapped
As I meld further inside
Scrying through shattered timepieces
To locate the origin
That blood stain, a direction
It is just beyond the steam
Sick miasma, akin to imprisonment
My body the confines
I may have found the end
She, a mere skeletal wraith
With an expression of purest terror
That no mental image could reproduce
How beautiful, her suffering
Pale, moreso than necrosis
A spiderweb crown, a throne of flies
She wears her skin as a robe
Or a khloros bedspread
The same colour as my eyes
That was drowned in our blood
Remembrance came with awakening
With a bludgeoning violence
Found an instrument in hand
And stains upon the floor
I played my game with such fervor
That I slept with her corpse
Picturesque was the morning sun
That I dare not embrace
For I'm not meant to be
But...
Am
Published 31st Jan 2018
| Edited 9th Apr 2018
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