Charlotte's Ebb
Foul is fair in the spider’s lair
Where madness hangs upon the air,
Where misery is company
To ancient bones that sit and stare
In darkened halls, at crumbling walls,
At wicked shadows that slither and crawl.
Where phantoms tell tales and logic fails,
Where sanity lies cold and pale,
Where dark-winged things flutter and scheme
From a mordant mind bitter and frail
Drenched in gloom is the spider’s room,
A sovereign sphere of ascendant doom
Like a monument razed to an open grave,
She is a gaping, fetid and festering wound.
Hell is caving in.
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