IN RAT TIMEA Poem by jeannemarie coulterthe now of is of a dark sort...IN RAT TIME the time of sadness echoes in fires of sound through honeycomb hollows in all the shuttered mind rooms with a vegetation of fantasy dripping like aged spanish moss where shadow corpses hollow time crying... every skull face rattles to echo emptiness and the night of being is too long and the sounds of loving are too cold... the laughter has abandoned it all... for, the rat lives in all the walls, rooms in all the minds, feeds on all the souls, is glutted by all the death, war, hate... forming icicles in the halls of nothing where hollow shadows walk whispers that cannot talk listen...you will hear... the rat stalks... the now of is has lost it’s charm and unexists as dark as deep and what there is was never seen and what was had has never been... for all of it was always souled, the damned rat owns it/us all, holds all primary liens, licks the bones clean as christ tossing them in the deepest dark where skeletons rattle like dice crying... " © 2015 jeannemarie coulterAuthor's Note
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Added on April 15, 2015Last Updated on July 1, 2015 Author
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