It Never Sleeps

My vision’s blurred, oh cursed delight, 

The madness hums, the bones ignite. 

My hands are ghosts, my feet untrue, 

What world is this I’m passing through? 

The abyss moans with open throat, 

A choir of worms begins to float. 

Inside my chest, stone upon stone, 

A tomb of flesh, yet not my own. 

I long for rest, but night deceives, 

Her silken veil in ash she weaves.

 Sleepless I wait the bleeding dawn, 

While rotting feasts the table fawn. 

My mind decays like drowned old grass, 

In muddy dreams the phantoms pass. 

Who are these faces, pale and torn, 

Their eyes like graves, their lips forlorn? 

Were they my kin in lives before, 

Or shades that mock what I adore? 

Each life I’ve lived has led me here, 

Where death hums sweetly in my ear. 

My final breath, my final crime, 

To love the fiend beyond all time. 

He waits with eyes like candle flame,

 And whispers low my cursed name.

 Perhaps I’m dead, perhaps I fell,

 Into the heart of my own hell. 

No soul perceives this hollow frame, 

A phantom bound by love and shame. 

The storm awakes, its drums resound, 

My heart still beats, infernal sound.

 It pounds and chants, I am, I am, 

A shattered hymn, a slaughtered lamb.

And as the dark consumes the sky,

 I call to him, my last goodbye.

 If kingdom comes, then let it be, 

The throne of death, and he, with me.