The voice is strong
It kills with its breath
Foetid air that clammily clings
Around the hope of the living
Bells
Stuttering speech
over thin lips
Razor teeth chew the thoughts
And spit them into nightmares
Black paintings of a slow reality
Falling
Listen to the
heart speak
Tattooing out a rhythm
That only the foolish will follow
Blindly to their own beginnings
Beating
Birds fly through
snow
Strong wing strokes dragging through air
As they carry bleak messages
From sterility to death
Fly
Cry to the voice
The bells will never stop
But my heart did