Silence, Catullus

Silence, Catullus

The silence screams its bawl of grief,

Filling my ears like a vacuumed thief.

The vacant expanse becomes incessant time,

Dragging me into its void of slime.

The harrowing eagerness of ravenous hope,

Beaten and bruised by the expected trope.

Squeezed from the sponge of atrophied care,

Blinded by the sight of unanswered prayer.

I cannot fathom the oppressive breath in my body,

The animate air makes my entire being cloddy.

It lifts me up on a cloud of thunder,

And limb from limb wrenches me asunder.

This tranquil torture like a wind from the sun,

Rips the skin from my bones to infinitely burn.

The exhaustion of amaranthine death,

Swamped by the effervescence of shibboleth.

The roots of destruction ensnare my repose,

My life and death they infinitely transpose.

My Catullus they’ve torn from my unbeating breast,

The devastation of souls their unceasing quest.

Warrior Princess