There is something that haunts these charred paths.
I hear gnashing of teeth and my skin feels aflame.
I look down upon my form and this fading flesh reveals itself.
Like wax running from the wick.
Toss me aside and pervert my body with your wickedness.
I feel no fear and even less that of sanity.
I feel cold and apathetic.
There is a numbness to my fingers and the very air around me seems to flare into the smell of burnt remains.
There is a form, writhing on the ground.
Its arms are outstretched, pointing towards me, begging for a savior who is not aware of the ability to redeem.
Crumbling organs pour from the wretch.
Its torso is torn asunder, and the once liquid like innards are of ash.
Sulfer is rising into my nostrils.
With a moan of mourning and denial it calls out to me, to something inside of me.
There is no call to give back to the thing, there is not even lamenting.
Callus are my actions and even more so my inability to understand.
The form is crumbling before my transfixed, dark eyes.
I rise to turn, the tightness of my body poised for action.
With resignation and dull steps, I heed the call of homicidal winds at work.
There are always those who carry out the dirty deeds of the fallen.
These beings of oppurtunity and discommunicati
And yet, her grace shines through.
Through me, and the brooding clouds.
And if her light never falls on me, I'm content just to feel the lack.
And this Fall set requiem for my way.
Away from other's paths, I turned to desolation.
Away from other's thoughts, timid and surpassing.
Away from other's, beyond caring.
It's as if every morning I awake, I awake to a new bone to pop and the want for my very neck to snap.
I am enraged by it all, I hate this feeling of helplessness and discontent.
I am afloat in a sea of vast fog.
The water is so dry, like sand against the glass.
I am the center of strength and purpose, yet I am the definition of fragile and easily shattered.
There is an arrogance in me that is stoked by the fires of denial and the coals of unending memory.
There is a pain that I do not acknowledge.
A throbbing ache that will not heal.
There is a form in my vision, as I coast along the sea towards the shore.
The spray of the ocean tickles my vision and disrupts my senses.
There is a tilted, bloated body.
It is hanging from the thickest of the willows.
She.
Her neck is slit and her blood has dried against her lies.
They are crusted in an abyss of once was.
Suddenly, my sight is assaulted and I see naught but darkness.
There is something that haunts these charred paths.
I hear gnashing of teeth and my skin feels aflame.
The course of my journey seems to replay, again and again for all of eternity.
I cannot escape this prison I have built for myself.
My back is breaking.
My will is gnarled.
For all things ought to say, left unsaid.
For all things ought to do, left undone.
Be with me now.