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We've said
enough of nothingness to bury us
and I confess to nothing less than emptiness
in garbled wails. My lustrous mind resigned to
grief, the all devouring master thief; his greed abiding no relief
until the
grave. Their feathers fall like
dusk and sit as bible black assailants
flit in maddened haze throughout the pit that was my brain
The spirals spiral downward still
they narrow, suffocate and kill, but never seem to have their fill of
suffering. There are no words
there is no time, no tolling bell,
no song or chime; our heaven's built
of rubble, grime, and feasting worms
Tell mother death to
wrap me up in tattered blankets, I will sup eternal
from her ***'s cup and ever rest. As haven to a mourning crow,
a barren tree in years will grow from in the shadow-sea
below, where I reside. The vestige of a soul
I sleep where neither lies nor whispers creep, in frozen ages of the deep
'til kingdom come