Halls of the Dark Muse

The knife twists
inch by inch
carving flesh out
while I watch
unfeeling
while the blood flows

Numb inside
living heart beats
with each twist of blade
sent further back in time

Soul-surrender
in flashes of fragments
fleeting omens
with no voice
or meaning

Just a flutter
of raven wings
laughter rings
across the wasteland
where all our memories
ended up

If only scavengers
would come to feed
upon the remains
instead of leaving
them still like
tumbleweeds.