Halls tainted with thoughts
Oozing walls of times passed
Reek of putrid memories
That rot but never die

The Black Banquet awaits
In the West drawing room
A Gray Cornucopia
Of gratuitous Perdition

I smell the stench
Of sweet meat decomposed
Of soft marrow oozing out of fleshy bones
A tinge of desire, A tinge of despair

My stomach growls
With incessant hunger
Macabre appetite
Nests in my gut

Rapid whispers
Ravage my ears
Telling me to eat
From the Feast of the Damned

I salivate
At the thought of the meal
Awaiting on platters
Of rusty Iron and Silver

O moon with no boundaries
That enters homes uninvited
Say what you think is best
For this weary soul

I stand at the portal
Of rosewood and bronze
Ready to enter
Ready to run

I touch the door
Which greets me with splinters
Bloody fingers
And lingering fear…

Sweet nectar
Of crimson Pomegranate
Washes down what lingers
Lodged in my throat.