Death Spell

Sorry about this one. It’s a bit depressing – but that’s all a part of the rich tapestry

                        Death Spell

Icy mists of shame enshroud my blackened-soul.
Harsh klaxons, blaring from my heart, proclaim all
squalid thoughts. Flares, illuminating caverns
full of nightmare-fiends, reveal a frightened child
lying sobbing in the dark. Metamorphose
walls flash me naked at the world. Pride deserts
as gutting-scalpels fling self-loathing-roots and
innards to the judging, scornful mocking mob.

Flee this terror of exposure, flee your dear
though unearned-love, bolt rabbit-scared through
black-night woods on menace-ridden hills. Run,
forever-banished in misery's driving-rain, stumble
bleeding on the flint-hard nettled-fields of pain.

Reality dissolving, sombre-brooding roots,
Zombie-float through mirage-days of chilling
vapour-dreams, curled up tight in flimsy-veil of
shielding-shell, tried; condemned; exiled within a
self-made cell, impotent to melt the fangs that
freeze the bonds that bind the death-wish in the spell.

Poison-seeds rain soft on fertile gardens of
a troubled-mind. Flowers bloom, in whats? and whys?
and awful rows of fearful hows? Answers ring –
crystal bells – from secret-lakes of tear-blood dew.

Help-cries garble, sane outside... death-mad within.
Talk ‘morrow-talk with me ten-million-miles
from you, engrossed, obsessed, cocooned within a
dreadful plan. In here there is no coming-dawn,
no more, no us, no anything. Who loves you
so, would go and leave you with this mist of shame.

You found my shame and beamed into my soul with
rays of healing-truth, dispelling mist and vile
veiling-shell while thawing out the frigid-spell.