Barren, first, the golden nest
The budding breast
Bloated with mystical, imaginary potential that paused in glory with thoughts of ghosts
Fled the ebbing, unknown wound
The disfigured prison of resonant debauchery;
Seeping through cracks, corroded with mold
Blissfully ignorant insanity
Misled prayers for sunshine in the hopeless, godless cathedral of rapid time
Like a tsunami of death, a roaring river of blood, drowning the life out of all that was good