The Basement Years

There is nothing.
... and there is no one.
... and all maggot October
I lay on the dirt floor,
face down, asphyxiating
amidst the dead earth's ugliest creatures,
writhing in the atramentous ashes
of what once was blood.

With a funereal docility,
I accepted my own burial ...
as it has been so black here, for so long. ...
Aphotic visions fade to pure oblivion.
We long to eat each other, them and I. ...
because there is no one. ...
and there is nothing. ...
and there is no solace
in this desolate, forsaken land.

The agonies of starvation
come and go, like the missing days
and nights, ever more painful than before.
... tormented
by memories of light and dreams
of the unattainable life outside,
my desperate psyche finally
caved in and devoured itself.

... and the ravenous worms entwined
around my spine to haste the inevitable
putrefication.

... to work their infernal alchemies.

Dark Corner

The Diabolical Apex

This life makes me long for Hell --
did I bring this torment upon myself?
Desperation more than blinds.
I carved out my eyes
and placed them on the wrong altar,
a fruitless sacrifice. It's not a flesh wound
that bled the sable tears of Acheron.
It will damn me to all I ever longed for ...
damn me to Xura -- the void within,
where the long empty days silently fade
into cold black years, and existence
slowly congelates into a hiemal eternity.
The glacier, internalized, that place
to which all roads and rivers lead ...
eventually ...
eternally.

... that nocturnal realm where
the stars have long since drowned
and caved in upon themselves ...
their spectral fires blaze,
inverted and black,
draining the realm of light.
The sky screams in constant agony
as it attempts to rip itself apart.
It bleeds hiemal streams
of perpetual sorrow;
they flood the blackened earth,
snuffing the vitae
from all that they touch.
A melancholy chill lingers
in the dismal harbor
where the shadowy waters collect ...
infinity's hell-black depths.

The caliginous night hangs like a shroud,
a shadow-hoard of moribund souls
and mortal stars long-extinguished.

The deceased never sleep. ...
and in this corporeal perdition,
amicable dreams are forbidden.

I stare unblinking, into the void
as the ashes of extinguished aspirations
drift wearily through my cobwebbed cerebellum.

I have been submerged for so long,
in the decrepit ruins of my cadaverous mind,
that the worms that ate me, themselves, have died.
... and the stagnant waters that once suffocated
my desires for resurrection, have evaporated.
The shadows now hold my chains in open hands.

A malefic ray breaks through the moth-holes. --
In Serpens' unhallowed light, my arid eyes ignite,
The frostbite fades in the wake of the inferno.
the agonizing rush of reawakened blood
enters my carrion veins. ...
and the fiend they tried to exorcise, rises.

The shadows tell me to lie down.
... be quiet.
... stay dead.
... and drink my formaldehyde.
and they'll bring flowers
to adorn my grave,
in all the colors
I never knew in life.
... won't that be nice?

Then they push the lids over my eyes,
lock the casket, drive the nails in place
and lay me to rest in my solitary hellscape.
... but somewhere in the nebulous depths of my mind,
an impious litany echoes -- a perpetual invocation
to the diabolical apex of darkness,
the most inverted of conflagrations. --
the hell-black lightening that could
incinerate this pernicious cycle of re-interment.

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