Excerpt Of Madness I

The crackling sounds of a surreal night, lit the confines of my quarters
motions through the sea caused the rustling shackles of the windows latch to exasperate the silence
Through it all, the darkness is pleasantly serene - a wisp of an escaping dream
So profound, one wouldn't realize the clarity of a dead mans decadence.
But through it all, the tales in which I write are nothing more but a means to an end.

Tankard of mead, down the hatch.
I've succumbed to my greed, and dare I say its a wondrous batch of poisonous filth
No wine or cocktails to sip, neither knitting quilts nor guilt found here - excluding spilt beer.
A time of familiarity, she befell the floor with what I cannot recollect to be a grumble or a plea.
To understand these illusions in my head, the voices past of a forgotten creed.

Liquid remedy, to acknowledge that which kills me - sate my desire, and unshackle me of this whore.
Oh I dare not ask for more - the excitement is but a chore.
The time is now four hours into dusk, and she is such a bore.
Forgive me, these tales delude me of my drink.
A tankard of mead, blooded hands her throat bleeds.
Severed thighs left with a silent kiss, my conscience dies oh widowed miss.
I ask myself how does it feel to be left with nothing?
But the silence halts in a final rasp of her lungs - an attempt to catch breath.
Tankard of greed, down the hatch. I've fallen to my mead. And she's fallen to me.
Such a funny way to end my life, in the apex of his wifes - death.

by Tyler Marshall

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