| Paul
Ingrassia, US
Butterfly
Cinquain
the king and
the worms
dedicated to robert e. howard
wretched,
degenerate
man-things slither and writhe
deep in the dank, mouldering pits—
hellish...
pure king, master of the black stone,
claws and crawls through the dark,
stone-cold, driven—
vengeance...
Solitude in
Desolation
Somewhere,
deep in my mind,
there is a dark island
where all my lost dreams lay dying.
I weep.
All hope, desire, and happiness—
mere illusions of life—
are long since gone.
I fear.
Remembering
Defilement
My mind
bleeds, like fingers
sliced and torn by glass shards—
black tears drip like melting tar from
my heart.
Nightmares stalked by his dark shadow
and consciousness haunted—
a wraith sucking
my soul.
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