Hollow men

Night’s crush is come again, it’s coil-sprung fingers close around my vitals, and drain heart’s-blood with fear’s emptiness. There seems no end to these nothing hours between sleep and waking, the animus of a mind tormented by “what ifs?”

that crowd each second thought

with a writhing mass of hopeless purpose.   Nor is there time to sense a knowing end… just infinity of pain eating slowly into dawn whose light hungers action and turns the clock again towards some conclusion. Each morning’s step is closer to the welcomed moment of resolution….. whatever that might be.   Beyond death and despair, a life evolution breeding certain change that fills the sterile night with sweat-coupled dreams, encircled in the arms of a mother soul whose loving warms the earth with my existence.   Then I will know the course that can turn the path of hollow men who seek my fall, but have no owner’s life than in my end..... in truth no life at all beyond the echo of of their shallow footsteps sounding gross deceit upon my back.