adrenachrome

It Waits

The glowering clouds advanced, steamrolling the light, bullying

The same feeling brought on by the pregnant dreams

Where flesh was a rebellion, a swallowed twin in the womb

The thing had teeth and hair, and an echoing voice that sometimes

Spoke of revolted thoughts left for the darkest part of night

Self-hatred, but if you remember correctly the tree smoking

against the fires of Hell. Its roots drink the blood of the most agonized sinners

Those who would take back only one word, one lie to their own hearts.

An unprecedented rage, pure and illuminating, shines its light into the darkness

Where the lovers sweat and strain against each other in a feeble attempt

To obscure one another from the flaming eyes of that which would destroy.