Remembered music
tears the atmosphere apart,
spiralling through octave dimensions
to where we float
in ancient and decaying blood
with the other apocalyptic flotsam.

Infinity pursues,
an unrelenting source of fear,
opaque immeasurable dimensions
swirl around our undead memories,
straining toward conciousness
with weighted wings.
Nightmare seen by lidless eyes,
given mortal substance
in endless screams.

"Why? Why"? we scream
from the crumbling wall,
from grated windows,
black-toothed mouths in rows.
We offer our souls
to the hope assasin
who only knows the converging point
of twisting sequences
but not who set their adverse course,
Nor how,
nor why
some small experiences
take root and grow
with terrifying force.

What a cruel master he is,
urging momentum
through this dead air.
Our blood flows thick
into stopped hearts
too dark to see
what was once glimpsed
in tearless infant eyes.

And why do all the empty cradles
rock so violently
in dark deserted attic rooms
where photographs creep out
from dusty tomes-
mute and faceless ghosts
who bid our dreams farewell?