Palace of the King

It was in the palace of King David that I first knew real fear.
The forced smoking of the meth was taking me apart;
thought by thought;
memory reconfigured.

I saw his face today;
that demon and his sorceress.
I remembered the curse;
the schizophrenic decompilation.

Burning itching eyes;
control lost over the voice,
and the poison it spewed;
destruction at every angle.

Bones clanking in a xylophone's melody.

The fire!  Fire.

Fire.




[20:37|27.12.011] ©c.thomas.carter