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Marche Funèbre
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These Fevered Days
Lava spat back for miles
Soil for my impermeable tomb
Urged to stray from the aisle
To erase me from this womb
But afar, lo, its crawling might
Crowns ignite green by light
Roots harbor life nor sound
Sunlight had never troubled the ground
Jukai, the sea is deep
My reasons for the woods to keep
I dive in, troubled with doubt
My vow is not to be found
As night falls, a flight of all hope
No longer designed to survive
The egress, dead or alive
Is by means of the rope
Won't you drag
These fevered days
Unto the sea
And let them bleed
Under the trees
These severed ways
Will leave their trail
Not to be found
In time
'Elysium is as far as to
The very nearest Room
If in that Room a Friend await
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Felicity or Doom--
What fortitude the Soul contains
That it can so endure
The accent of a coming Foot--
The opening of a Door--
Doom is the House without the Door -
Tis entered from the Sun -
And then the Ladder's thrown away,
Because Escape - is done -'
Three times dawn-to-dark
The forest seeps in my skin
The drought left its mark
My life is wearing thin
I contrive peers on my way
The letter, the rope, the bones
Descried nothing which atones
I saw dim light but no new day
Filled with thirst and hunger
I sink into endless slumber
No knowledge of what lies ahead
My narrative is left behind
A life swayed by regret
Lines from a tortured mind
For none will come to mourn
A rose with only its thorn
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