Reflections.

There is no reflection in the tainted black sea.
No Hello or Goodbye in the silence of the night when death comes to visit me.
Crushing, Crush, Crushed.
Under the weight of black torn wings. Eyes hollow and empty.

Voices, speak, speaking, talk.
A low rumbling, like bass thumping under my feet running through tired bones and settling into a hole left in my chest.
Could it be, is it really, is it true.

The scent of rotting flesh surrounding filling me whole.
Spilled blood, redder than anything the eyes have ever seen.
Proof that maybe, really
I was once living.

It's smeared across open flesh.
Pooled at my feet, dripping between my fingertips.
An ecstasy of horrible dark dreams.
Of a past so close.
Is it the present, a look into the future.
Could it be, is it really me.

Shallow pants, labored breaths.
A heartbeat away from death.
Tired, Tired, broken, sleep.
Sleep baby girl.
It says.

A soft caress across wet cheeks.
A brush across fluttering eyelids.
A sweep across chapped lips.
Breath, Breath, Breath.
No reflections of the broken faces.
There is no need to show the broken it's true form.
Sick, sick, twisted beauty.

Come lay in open arms and let the crushing weight of defeat carry you away.
Never here, won't stay, don't stay.
This is only a dream.
A ramble of the past.
________________________________________________