10 Feb
The Undead
The wretched ghastly yawlp,
Oh the aethereal tides
yearning for totality
in destruction
An ocean, a single mass
rotting horseman nigh
a hatred unstaunched
They are our cracked mirror
transmuting fangs, poison
messangers of undying screams
What do they hear?
Perhaps this curse is just the id
wanting not but for to want
enternally unrealized consumption
forever in unsatiated dreams
This decay that surrounds me is,
in the truest sense
permeateing and mutating my soul
And like them we rot,
our hope decaying as we seek
peace as they do flesh.
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