Cold Emptiness

Am I dreaming or am I awake?

Hunger gnaws from within me.

The ghastly air penetrates my skin;

ice adorned leaves pierce my flesh.

O I am dreaming in an icy crate,

the ghostly branches dance on my wall,

by the moonlight their forms fling,

to Chopin’s nocturnes that devilishly caress.

Unseen sirens from a black cemetery make,

songs that drape my corpse in frost.

As I limp along the shimmering lake,

sinking from the marsh into an old inn.

Alone I am, in a cold emptiness;

alone, I struggle to keep my comport.

I plead helplessly for her majesty’s mercy,

like a breathing shark who has torn his fin.

Published in: on 10/03/2017 at 3:03 AM  Leave a Comment  

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