I perambulate
Slowly,
My feet move
Robotically,
With no help from me.
My heart beats
Like a kettle drum
In an empty cavern,
Pushing congealing blood
Through resistant veins.
Sinews, taut
Like barbed wire,
Rip at muscle,
And flesh, alike.
My hands hang limp,
One grasps a dark flask
Of dark red viscous
Liquid.
Above,
A sullen sky
Threatens.
I approach a dark forbidding door,
And tug a rope.
Inside, bells crash
Through empty halls.
The door creaks open,
And there stands
A vision,
Of pure malevolence.
I find my voice
And rasp,
"Hello, Mother-in-Law,"
"I've brought your Sherry."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
