The darkness is smothering, the stress is raining heavy.
A constant pitter pattering on the roof of my thoughts.
Sinking into the sunken place for the lost.
Where the outcasts and down trodden walk.
Strolloing through fields of dried growth and wilted
carnations of glum.
Backdropped by jagged hills with smoldering craters,
releasing the suffocating stench of sulfur.
All for which the lungs may burn.
By day, dreary skies are warmed by a blackened sun.
As upside-down birds fly backwards, one by one.
By night, pitch black skies illuminating blood from the
crimson moon.
While dogs meow loudly as they flee the pursuing barking
cats with growling intentions.
Through portholes, only to return to point of origins.
As I exhaust from a perpetual journey, passing the same
sign in multitude.
Down a direct road patterned with petrified cactuses,
and legless crows.
Sips of vinegar from the canteen, for a cotton mouths
thirst that continuosly grows.
From afar I can see a group of shadowy figures.
Slowly I approach, as they stand encircling a coffin.
As I near, these apparitions file out into two lines, turning
their attention.
They were towering in comparison.
Amorphic, with the appearance of a hooded head with no face.
With two dime sized flames, about where eyes would
be placed.
Suddenly overshadowed by darkness, I could smell
death in the air.
Unheralded, they release a great shrieking sound and
lunge, attackingly.
No recourse other than to run, towards the coffin as they
reached and grabbed nefariously.
Tearing clothing, and flesh, forced to run the gauntlet.
Stumbling to the ground, I turn to face the impending doom.
But they break up into a swarm of flies and disperse into
multiple directions.
Tattered and worn, I rise to my feet, standing in front of
the wooden box.
With shriveled and weakened hands, I open it to see
me inside.
Laying peacefully, with no worries of distrust or
betrayal of lies.
Sleeping the sleep thats never been slept before in life.
Peering at my face with a gaze, muddled over what appears
to be a smile.
As I wonder, if this is the only path to elation?