It hangs down, wrapping itself around a pasty neck

The rope pulsates, a mocking sway

And herds of bodies bond to the ceiling.

Broken feet, blue and bruised.

Screams of stale desperation

From one fruitless mind;

The dust catchers amongst the blue mist

Thirsy for life veins.

And prised with magical hooks, wide eyes pray,

Shadows sail in circles

Killing the walls.

Insomnia's nightmare begins.

And here we make our webs.

Numbing in our nests

And dying in our breeds

04/04/2005

Posted on 04/04/2005
Copyright © 2024 Sam Roberts