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.