Choir Of Furies

The melody of terror vibrates inside... screaming reminders, like broken fingernails clawing at the rough pavement. Every act brings it's own verse, the judgment and redemption are unending... there is no atonement or salvation pending. This round bellied beast has become the feast, on which the diners never cease... no peace, no release. Confessions are moot... in this godless court, I stand accused and accountable. Still, the desire remains to voice every incident. To some how release my own guilt at the very least... raised corpses, daughters and neighbors waiting for reprisal. The words are like sand in my throat... choking me as I gasp for the air to cough them out once and for all. The more I struggle, the more I am suffocated... like warm, stale breath whispered over and over in the victim's ear. I can still taste the sweat from my brow, smell the hair and fluids that were spilled upon the cold concrete and see the trembling bedsheets. Each moment sparked with a smile... lights dim as reason and remorse left my side. I just didn't want to be left all alone... I couldn't stand being alone any longer. The closet is crowded now... all of us together, forever.