The Restless Poet

I am seduced by the wicked rumble
of the phantoms haunting
the dark underbelly of my pain.

The constructs of my mind
cannot unbuckle the straight-jacket
binding me to the core of my despair.

A cold chill sweeps
the graveyard’s barren landscape.
Logic burrowed deep
with the earthworms…an interminable wait.

Suspended in the struggle for breath,
the heavy footfall of death
casts shadows on the eve of my execution.

I weep, anguished and stripped naked
beneath the thin, cold veil
of persecuting grief.

Flesh transformed to unbending stone,
succumbing to the stillness
that wakes with a terminal embrace.