Last Home

Belvoir Castle, England


From the coliseum
Death at the tip of a sword
Surviving again, thinking of death
What a gift this would be, as
Chains clink between shuffling feet
The end of living; but wrong
Dying a little more, this day

Crowd noise, distant fading
A lost echo drowning, in a sea of lost hope
Descending staircase, spiraling hell
Beneath the castle grounds
Circling on cold damp, desperate stone
Nothing escapes; not light or even life
Darkness, home to a demonic presence

That which has no name
Travels unthwarted in my head
Grabbing thoughts by the nostrils
Pulling hard to hold on
While death permeates the stone walls
Seeping in, like the black plague
On an evening fog within the keep

Door slamming, chattered latch
Throw down, dragged
Caressing the granite floors
With pallid tearing skin
Screams as muffled echoes
Flesh crawling in hideous retreat
Alone, utter darkness speaks aloud

Counting days
Tracks lost in obscure gloom
Name forgotten in the book of memories
Then remembered as “Destitute”.
Yet who speaks to the dungeon walls?
Coaxing their obsidian secrets
From the musty, coated granite

Where does this presence sleep in the darkness?
Lurking in the shadows of moon light
Bringing on a haunting psychosis
Just before a raging dawn.
Sleep on till the morning
Sleep on with your last breath
For tomorrow begins another day

From your retched last home



OSI#120: Oubliette