Where upon I staked my throne
This old man wears his lonesomeness
Like sleek stygian veils of mourning distress
Nights considered black and eternal sorrow
Sunshine’s fading memory eclipsed
No terror greater than the ignorant sin
Where feelings laid to rest upon the mantle of my chest
A heart no longer pulsates with regularity of days
Satisfaction of disillusionment and melancholy laments
The cool night air fairs warmly against pale flesh
Remnants of smoldering corpse’s smoke
As fires rage burning in communal silence
Bleeding the bled for perspective
Ripened wisdom sinuous ancient veins
The slight grey of death’s breath collected
The slumber of days has wrecked our lives
But the night still echoes our call and thrill
For the midnight hunt and ****