Theories Of Old Bones

They passed by flames almost out

here even the wind destroys bones

time turns into space bones ache

drawn out like an ache bones space

it smelled like slow death bones ache

and they crawled along the floor hungry and lean and looking for more

the stench followed me out of the gloom, a ghost of rage

a memory of cruel fatigue screams heard bone deep

there is nothing to breathe into the heart the cold drifted

to the pit where we twist and cringe bones ache

huddled away from the daylight pale and white

hollowed into a numbness no need for pain or wasting disease

for it’s the same ragged tangle of fears,

the same strange sense of aimlessness

that knot of rage scoured the floor of the skull

life had drifted away to some far off point inside leaving the body to automatic ruin

fall through the ether and that slow sweat of time gnawing at my entrails

silent as the drift of death