I heard the cries of those that had been
here so long ago, cradled in a maddening
place, fathered in deranged love, but they
clasped on the lingering echoes that was
consummated into  a yearning of pain.

Like orphans of death they stemmed from
petals tears absconded upon silent air.
Bleeding inwards they consumed themselves
devouring the darkness within till a frail
echo was left of pearly shards shattering below.

What can be seen when we look within someone?
so many played on these words, where breath
escaped so did the foetal yearning of lingering
life now excavated with each greeting to their
insides now looked upon in confused amazement.

Can you hear the screams of the dead they assign
others to join them in the pleasure of unbridled
bliss. In the maddening of this place a few lucid
thoughts speak forth, momentarily as others not
wishing these words cleft, dissect tongue from mouth.

This place where no one sleeps even in death, silently
wailing in deafening shouts. But they are heard, that
is what the constant chatter of these poor souls mumblings
are dissected from. A circle of deranged figures
feeding the fires of either , can you hear them screaming.