10-26-15

10-26-15

Apparitions patrol our passages at night. Sickness slithers down the walls. Its profuse glops glisten and shift under a balanced pulse of moonlight. This is where the dead wander in wait for judgment. So many roam and in constant want to exercise their demons. Yes, even the dead have demons. They tend to hold true to ignorance and what greater thing is there than ignorance?

A dark finger is on my soul. 

Notes lay crumpled on the floor. Their signatures all end the same. I don't want to read anymore. Hands created these lies and now hands can destroy them.

Hands….

Under bare feet broken glass is a comfort as doe eyes open wide.  Pain is a kind deliverance while I squeeze one crimson diamond drop at a time from an open wrist.  Soon I will soar beyond heaven to a kingdom of hell. 

Open wounds refuse to heal since the day neglect stole my life and death became a faithful friend.

One foot after another the living move inward. With them are foreign devices that hum, beep and throw shallow lights.  In night's eye an inky solution emerged. Nothing could ever prepare the world for end.