Ineffable
Sunday, May 6
The netherworld is asleep
Basked in the unholiness of its deathly silence
Undaunted by the heavy dragged footsteps
of a shadow lost in the funereal depths of the abyss
The misshapen creature cries in anguish but nothing heeds him
The walls consume his cries, sapping him of his essence
He shudders as he clutches the feather in his hand
A malevolent gift from a fallen angel
Deprived of a single drop of ink the emotions find no release
They reverberate throughout his carcass, pulsating and throbbing
Swelling to the point of climax and imploding
Leaving a void shaped in the likeness of man
The spectre slits its throat with the feather
And the dark figure relishes the euphoria of its self-inflicted pain
But there are no streams of vivid maroon gushing out
Because blood no longer flows in its deathless veins
Alone, desperate, and nearly insipid
The Hollow furiously etches its unanswered screams into its skin
But all is futile, as its flesh crumbles away into ash, disappearing
As if his existence was but a flicker of light in the darkness of the universe
Labels: uninspired
thrown by A.Paul @ 10:22,
