of dire consequence,
a heavy stone
A malignant brooding
mass of reverie
I must write.
Only I find that every word
with oppressive sound.
A stone of thought becomes a mountain, wracked by
No less indelible than the apocalypse
of deep depression that marks my brow.
It is the mark of the leaden beast I battle.
Desperate to release myself from its grasp
I have only
grown obese with impacted rumination.
I strain in vain. Gravid now and fit to burst,
apprehension comes in waves, for looming now are jagged peaks
streaked by the writhing fire of utter malevolence,
haunted crags of last resort,
beckoning me"come hither"but there is no trail
only travail that never ends.
My prodding becomes more malicious
as a mucid wind spews forth to cloy
and afflict my weary lungs. In disgust
I rage against fatigue.
Fuming my last paroxysm,
frothing in a rabid haze,
scrabbling my fingers raw,
with cracking teeth and aching jaw
I rend and gnaw at the damn leviathan!
I implore the elder gods of time
to show mercy and dispatch the dire beast.
A great thrumming pulse begins to pound,
worlds are ground to dust before my eyes,
echoes of unholy midnights seethe in boundless fury
until at last a great blast of scarlet blossoms,
dripping warm and red, bled from depths of darkest soul.
I, pen my life's blood upon the page: