the walls of a poem. like the folding of wings. they burn through the base of the skull. . under the eyelids. the night eternal. down fell the city of words.
Language - self-destruction. Against the iron air. In broken, non-verbal strains. An all-devouring sand. . The phantasm. We invoke. A monument. A final stand.
Let the language be the blade. Dead it stares into our empty lives. . Created needs - as tumors they grow. The swarming worms of a thousand lies. . The conspiracy of the blind - staring dead into our lives of decay.
The halls of the grotesque. Reverberate our final doom. Oh, the ravenous indulgence. The rite of passage eternal. . A black lung full of ash. A parasitic void.
The despair eternal, deafening. Watch it burn. . We run like rats - along the walls. Rising higher - around solitary lives. . Deep in your dreams - the dead they sing.