The Coming Swarm - Black Fast

Of grander visions, delusions abound

Stark conjurations, and the means unsound

In the coming swarm of my thoughts I’m found

Upon broken pillars of doubt and down

On fractured limbs wounded left to crawl

Through the wash and tide, engulfed and sprawled

Out barren, bleeding, ripped open all

To the endless ocean of my back I call

Tossing in its throes again

Transposing prose to verse

Preparing for the worst again

So do your worst

No borrowed tenets of corroding faith

Just contradictions and eroding shame

In of what was nothing, now is even less

In my dying hour nothing to confess

Born adrift in a flooding plane, rotting stench in a forgotten wreck

Receding waters, fermenting flesh

Oppressive sickle now reaping death

Littered carcass, bone and dust

Wounded sky raining will to rust

Iron core struck against the stone

Tattered, broken, strewn

Darkened skies, fixed to pen lament

Haunted vigil, no relent

Seeding vengeance, bleeding wrath

Fixed upon their battlements