Catacombs of webbed silk
fills my journeys of late
Decay permeates my mortar
Seeping slowly into structured brick
I feel walls of arctic dankness
As I stumble through darkened abyss
Sounds of crunching beneath sluggish feet
Source of crunching crawling up tired legs.
Labored breath inhales stench of ruin
burning once clear eyes.
Putrid waters lazily Carry flotsam
Bruising ankles along their way.
Ears hear only squeals of ravenous vermin
Waiting for their next meal
I wonder if I am the menu tonight.
Where panic should live exists only calm
Calm of familiarity!
I have been here before
Surrounded in daunting shrouds
A willing prisoner of degradation
This is my escape!!!
No one dare’s to search
And in my lonely torment
I weep for life and living
Tears mingle in existing waters
Diluting putrid with pure
Until the tears are no more
Mourning is passing into memories
Darkness begins to retreat
The healing has begun
Soon I will sneak a peak
Maybe a glance
The Commander and the Chief take on the rogue Deep State: the Gunfight at the UK Corral, missing Redcoats in the Nevada Triangle, and nuclear blackmail!
Let yourself take on a sexy adventurous read, walk on the sensual dark side of human adventure through the shadows of your mind. And, challenge your senses of the normal versus the paranormal, and the abnormal. Accept the quest, get onboard and disco
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