The seemingly empty void

Prangs of existence dissipated

Lurching pushing forward

Hallowed echoes hold no warmth

As the spider spins on silken thread

To catch unsuspecting

The bells the bells

Ringing relentlessly throughout the mind

Hear them not

Nothing can thrive in darkness

No light

No rapture so exquisite

As to pull upon the heartstrings

No life within the mortal shell

Hollow

Withered

Dead come round with cold hands to taunt

Screams vibrate, resonate surrounding

No recognition of sound

This is death?

Fleeting glimpses pass hindered

Pained festering images flooding

Hypnotically engaging the blazoned blackened tissues

Hands cannot hold back the bellows piercing wailing

Will lost never regained

Succumbing to seduction in all her hauntingly beautiful forms

Pale arms entwine pulling back into oblivion

Melodic laughter fills and empties

Soul trembles nearly crying out in protest

In vain as darkness pours forth

Wickedness comes bearing sharp bite

Consuming moral fiber

Sins in flesh that reach for thee

Silken touch lulls

Brought to the brink of conciseness

Dropped further into nothingness

Wet runs down ashen cheeks

Brilliant hues regarding

Like stone that was flesh

Rigidly holds