---

George Lewis Avery

---

oh captain
[my father]
this night
our camp wears
the hiemal climate
of a tomb
[no moon no sky]
no sound
it s atmosphere
afflicted
with consumption
amid ethereal darkness
the frozen earth
on which i lie
is a slab
and i a leathery corpse
whose empty orbs
and gaping maw
laugh outright at the world
in grotesque
mockery of its present state
unfeeling
uncaring
undeserving
i am no fit food for worms
and yet [despite all this]
a heart still beats
[though feintly]
beneath my ribs
a heart whose lifeblood
has sank below the sand
of a dry riverbed
and i thirst
with such an accursed thirst that
i could suck the moisture out of marble
till it dissipates into air
for i am empty
i am in hell
unable even to dream
until someone unseals
the cover of my crypt
and allows the air to move
i long to gaze up
and see the stars above me
the sky
with its constellations
orions belt
the milky way
to then breach the distances between
where they and i lie
to be propelled thru space and time
to abandon this tortured realm
be it for a short while
until i wake
i would dream
with you as my guide

~i am TROLL †

.oeg ©