Rotting.

The scent of blood is rusted steel...
The memories unscathed.
The writing on the wall dries out in black...
Thy suffering remains.

And foraging the damning blade...
My silent debtor calls.
To heed the rapture of the light,
Past where the curtains fall.

I crucify myself today,
Even all that I have done.
To watch thine corpse upon the pillars...
The breathing close to none.

Flourishing fields of flames and teeth...
To paint my mouth of fear...
Then gallows wrought by sturdy screams,
To wrench all falling tears.

And relinquish the deepest of all failure,
The reckoning of woe.
To travel a road of brokenness...
Where no spirit dares to go.

For this, thou sands of time grow thick,
And form two glassy nails.
Broken fate within my palms...
A dreadful singe of Hell.

Eyes burn as sulfur grazes my nose..
In grave of breathless air.
Then eternity scratching nails to the bone,
And roots up from their hairs.

Someone, etching upon the walls,
A name no less than mine,
As the dirt continues to drag me further,
Its grip hid from my eyes.

And swallowing the rotted cross,
My silent ravens call.
To bury the wasteland of my soul,

Past where the sunset falls.