Decay


 

Withered leaves,

swirling in a virulent vortex —

trapped by crumbling, ancient walls.

Whispered wisps of silken cobwebs

adorned with decomposing husks –

ephemeral gossamer ghosts of insects –

shudder and shiver with a new life, of sorts,

as Death breathes an apathetic sigh.

 

Death resides here.
His putrid pall hangs heavy.
No one can stop him.
He has dominion over time itself.
 

Realms of darkness

where no light is allowed entry

hold horrifying secrets...

 

Slithering, unseen things

too repulsive to comprehend

 

invade the flesh of humanity.





Death holds court underground.
Judge, jury...executioner;
none are spared
his final earthly feast.




Creeping, Death

slithers like the serpent

which once bade Mankind taste of bitter fruit —

and devoured us.