Theories Of Old Bones (Mourning Beloveth)

They passed by flames almost out here even the wind destroys bones time turns into space bones ache drawn out like an ache bones space it smelled like slow death bones ache and they crawled along the floor hungry and lean and looking for more the stench followed me out of the gloom, a ghost of rage a memory of cruel fatigue screams heard bone deep there is nothing to breathe into the heart the cold drifted to the pit where we twist and cringe bones ache huddled away from the daylight pale and white hollowed into a numbness no need for pain or wasting disease for it’s the same ragged tangle of fears, the same strange sense of aimlessness that knot of rage scoured the floor of the skull life had drifted away to some far off point inside leaving the body to automatic ruin fall through the ether and that slow sweat of time gnawing at my entrails silent as the drift of death