Blood Curdled At the Chilling Quill
Blood Curdled at The Chilling Quill
Sanctuary I prayed
Feet stumbling at a wet dank alter
Crumbled brick the skeletal shell
Of ancient cathedral
Safety
Mausoleum in the gloom of battered drips
Their ghostly quill of written blood
And zombie skins of parchment
Write their movement
On the clammy tips of sweat
Don’t even breathe
As the screaming prickling hairs stand stiff
As the chilling curdled down my neck
I am alone
Cold swirls fog phantoms in my mouth
And bitter teeth bite at one time warmth
As every veil and smack of dark
Stammers of cold footsteps
Cold stone to grind my fist
At Death
Dead
Un-Living
Un-Dead
Footsteps
Approaching
Hunters Moon haunted its taste for blood
The cowl of foxes
In midnights canine witchcraft
Thought to stampede on shattered stain glass
And spit the gargoyles fallen head
In spells of horror demolished
Sainted tiny fire I prayed
Sanctuary
From the tombs of dusted bones
Let me sleep
Let me sleep
Behind burning eyes
And drag from the crag the whimpering prize
Of terror
Let me edge on the ripping dawn
Never to rest on burial ground
Copyright © Colin Mitchell Williams | Year Posted 2008
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