We live the darkness bled from dream.
Veins of lightning
sear haunted eyes.
Continuous rolls of thunder grate
like boulders crunching bone.
Sheets of black devour the dead earth.
Slime-rot rolls off the bloated beast
that some call:
The souls of countless corpses
wash into the bottomless void.
The sun claws its way
out of a black nightmare
branding the sky a hellish hue
in sizzling iron.
The same glow as the lake of fire
mingled with Eros's lust incanted.
The threshold of nevermore
is crossed in inertia.
While madness pounds a pulsing drum.
I like that you pair your poems with pictures, for me the photo helps to set the tone- and certainly does a bang up job here. This one is haunting and reminds me of the riots in the nineties in LA and elsewhere. Of course, this same thing is happening everywhere tthese days and is quite unsettling.
Threshold as a title says a great deal, and the poem itself just makes me feel charred as though I'm wading through the wreckage.
Several keeper phrases here, much depth (no pun). Yours is a treasure of symbological genius I suspect much of which is lost on the shallow end of the pool. Good choice of title also, I like that "threshold of nevermore" which I'd also appreciate as the threshold of evermore. Very nice work.