City of the dead Her soul lies in the city of the dead, buried under steel and stone, beneath an avalanche of carefully measured days, mocked, derided, unmourned. The wheel turns across bone - roll wheel, crush sweet flesh, crush eyes, heart, hope, bury love, devour time. offer oblivion, second face of desolation. Nepenthe pour your draught, let her forget she offered up her soul, her precious hours, to a god of stone. © 2002 J.L.Stanley |
