I walked along the silent hall,
strolling along the arcs.
Of ancient walls attired in grime,
A feculent smells arises,
withou hesitation a smack,
between the senses;
loathe and dread.
It stalks, in it's fusty cloak,
bypassing the begrimment pedesterians.
Showering'em in mortility ambience,
creating an aura of fear,
Why?
perhaps a belial, or merely the-
mind tricks played by ones concious.
The air grew misty. Unrendered;
the way one may become of.
unseen by the passing-bys,
behind that narrow door of oak,
where the ravens lurked moments ago.
the prey,thy, pleading in plight-
with no one to hear his pledge,
engulfs by ravens.
Liver to blood and fine dust;
The air turned still.
Thing turned back the way they are.
Evil lurks, in between these strees.
Leaving only traces of dust
Perhaps sadomasochistic could save ye life?
In your bone i crave my flute enjoying the flesh and soul in china-ware,
and commented,
'thy have hollow bones that they makes deafening music of pain!'
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