Bricks sealed by bile
shape a tower boiling with flies
Torrential rain seeps the stench into a trench
in the sand in the shape of the Sightless Sigil
Faceless statues wear their scrap armor
In a circle around the pit of inky nothing
Where shadows rise and lick in wisps
Curling runes drift up and disappear
A silent telling of hidden secrets
deadly to see
YOU ARE READING
Shadow Chatter
PoetryBetter read with an open mind. Best read with an empty mind. A Spiritual Text and Testament Artwork by the Author
