The Nihilist - Three: Nil By Mouth
Nothing eaten, nothing drunk.
Waiting, waiting.
The clock ticks on with hourly chime,
A dull metronome of passing time.
Waiting, waiting.
Food grows cold, drink grows warm.
Waiting, waiting.
Nightfall scuttles heliotrope claws
Across the ceiling, walls and floors.
Waiting, waiting.
Shadows cleave the paling face.
Waiting, waiting.
Expressionless with staring eyes,
Breath reduced to vapid sighs.
Waiting, waiting.
No raven quothing “Nevermore!”
Waiting, waiting.
The chimes toll death again, again,
Prayers to ashes, all in vain.
Waiting, waiting,
waiting…
|