Thursday, July 24, 2008

Hell's Bells

Crept in like a mole:
lives beneath his heart.
You wonder if it stole

his last capacity
to part with his insanity.
It nibbles on his roots:

shoots its tongue out:
loots him, licks him raw –
feeding on the pain:

grinds his mind’s
basilica to silica. Every
tiny grain of the eroded

and abandoned
Sphinx in him can feel.
Hell’s bells peal.


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