Halls of the Dark Muse

I was inspired to write this upon coming upon one of my old sketches

Warlock

I want to speak
but every time I try
the words become stuck
like a rock in the back
of my throat,
and I wonder
are you out there
somewhere,
do you laugh from the
dark, watching in the
shadows,
or am I little more
then a memory
from the grave.

I want to slay
you with my words,
to exorcise your ghost
to penetrate your soul
and rip out your heart
to watch you bleed
but it seems I become
paralyzed, and
I try to turn the
other way.

Your chains
cannot be seen
but they are felt
a heavy weight
that will not let go,
though I have railed
though I have strained
there is no escape
and my soul is chafed.

Somewhere far away
you have locked
up in a little box
some piece of me
that you cut out
when I was not watching,
do you wear the key
around your neck,
or have thrown it away
into some ocean deep
or buried it beneath
the sand of an endless
desert.

Can I ever reclaim
what I have lost,
or sever its connection
let it die, leaving you
only with dust and ash.

Every time I try
it comes back,
you are thief
that moves unseen
a bandit in the night
but just what do you want?

Only perhaps to try
and play some semblance
of god, do you think
I dance upon your string?

I will not give you that
last satisfaction,
for you I refuse to die
I will not plunge the dagger in,
though I may be haunted,
I learn to live with your lurking
ghost, that grinning
memory that tries
to drag me down.

I may not be free
but I cannot be controlled
and I will fight with every
last drop of blood
to defy your
bondage.