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Garrotted shimmering

A trickle from the eye of the bow

Foul fledged

a corpse half spider full

Spinning

dancer balanced on toe

Digging

heel neath the pillar

Gushing

the recluse of ghosts

The taste of ashen silk

And flow of stale blood

Weary am I who sits burning

Weary am I who yearns more

Weary am I who vermin flock to

Weary am I who will be devoured

Palms blood and sealed

Rushing down the tunnel

Cradled by the cold

Escaped the following light

Incessant malformed

The shadows of graves

Pulling the beasts forth

Collapsed now arching overhead

Sharpest thistle on your ropes

Cracking worm filled eggs

Ensnared by snapping bone

Riddled with leech

One thousand wings

Devoid of the suns light

Backward pouring of molten gold

Swallowed into the odious

The mutant born whistling

Rusted trumpets blow

The pointed nose

slithering through vomit

A turn of the wheel has yielded the horror

And offspring of blackened work