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Poetry Soup Open Mic Kismet
Dusk marks stygian depths of this eldritch eve quay grim specter beneath the moon's silvery sheath surf cleaves with a hiss as the banshees keen weave lure to the thicket where shadows deceive yet beckoning thy breast beat.
Chains of ghostly twilight night's tapestry entwine if thou doth believe in such things so they say but leave unsaid many torrents pages gleam.
Cries rend the still air as the murder takes flight knot a feast for the lone but a bouquet for the blight groan from the depths where the dead invite soil splits yielding to the revenant's might.
Eyes petrified on the unhinged portal align not with the stars but plucks them to place upon the earth their nova as railroad spikes.
The cadaverous stir with a clockwork's mock life stalking then seizing in the frenzy of strife macabre feast laid bare by the scythe flesh stripped to bone swifter times the end of the knife.
A ghastly veil descends on our fate malign but the white rabbit hops by forgot the time.
More hands breach the earth as we share a glance darkling tide engulfs the crypts in its dance bare beak boned and maliciously advance craving the sweet succor of mortal for the footfall gets a chance.
Sinew snaps beneath the crows feigned design as the clocktower booms now its our moment to shine.
We thought it all the same indeed all the same virtue the sustenance we seek to claim desiccating avenues in our ravenous game plucking orbs and muffled cries our fame.
Muffled by the water's choke the seams come undone banquet of minds as we delve within eyesight burst forth trailing viscous kin guts unfurl our spiraling sin as a whole we dig in so that their demise begins corpulent scribe pens as we extinguish his line pier to peer the husks a feast so refined flavor so pure it ensnares the mind in time he chronicled a myth intertwined a servant's hand if memory serves me kind.
Copyright ©
Beatrix Macabre
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