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In catatonic catacombs you lay

As motionless as the temple,

Rising, monolithic, overshadowing,

Watching, guarding each mortal move.

Silent as the sermon’s words

Falling hollow from mouths,

Distorted by power, passionless,

Detached, unhinged, obsessed.

Led beyond the wailing

Imploring desperate eyes,

Hands as twisted as my psyche,

Grasping, indign, at flakes of faith.

Shallow chest, no sound no breath

Shroud pulled down from pallid lips,

My words, no meaning,

Crumble as they fall.

Moments crawl across the stone

I stretch a hand to leave,

A twitch, a blink; a rattled gasp,

In that misfortuned pause.

My feet fail as you stir

I have no place to go,

We walk as one, the jinx is broke,

Fate, it seems, is blind.


© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019