Bereaved Shadows

I took you to the keeper of secrets
Your webs spun in the ceiling corners, thick and heavy with bits of blood, bone, truth, lies and pain
Too late to forgive or forget monstrosities built on deceiving ground
There are no demons that can withstand your venom –
But there are demons that can crawl in your hell
Shaking destruction and death from their ratty hair
Spitting cynical vengeance from their empty-holed sockets
While their gnarled, sticky fingers scrape the ground into wounds –
Caverns deep and horrid, that weep years of disenchantment and abandonment
Slithering tongues that lick at bitter shadows, sucking down bile like candy
Beneath a cursing moon, churning with despondent love
There is no light falling here, to soften this dank, mossy wasteland
To caress its loss
Or the futile sacrifices
To slice through screaming, begging words, that litter the frozen ground like crumpled corpses
Anger and hate co-mingled in passionate syllables –
Built from blazing memories –
An inferno of screeching blades as they saw through breastbone
To mangle, eviscerate vein from heart
Spurting unspoiled sweetness onto crumbling headstones
Red-stained devotion turned to tears of tar
The dead don’t sleep here
Misery picks at bones
Emptiness swallows time and drowns it in a bloated belly –
A whirlpool where bereaved shadows howl
Wispy fingers reaching for their displaced afterlife
Charred misconceptions, bloodstained recollections, infested deceptions
Hissing through the trees –
A death rattle
A thousand limbs writhing, rejected by mercy
The dead don’t die here
Their shadows don’t speak of memories beneath this caustic lunar sea…Stillbirth
Despite words and gestures –
Fate is the fearful masses solace
Best buried and left untended, left to the curdled weeds –
No words harvested onto cold, smooth cement to worship its fallacy
No tears, no lust, no blood lost to this graveyard
Let its bones dry and crack
Wait for the full moon and I’ll meet you there where our madness
Will muddle those bitter fruits into sweet
We’ll drink until reckless and blind to plebeian, defective drivel
Smash our way through the acerbic crust of this suns bitter harvest
Lay naked on the flowery hillside spewing words of noetic soulfulness into the ashen atmosphere
Until our last breath gives up our hummingbird shadows
Shadows that speak