Libera me

He did not die, yet nothing of life remains
he shall emerge exhausted
from the terrible rigours of insomnia
out of the daylight - into the night
a city of corruption whose opulent squalor
holds within its ruins
the sickening stench of its stagnant eons
whose agents of disease
are as sacred as they are profane
The livid veins of fungoid rot devour the foundations
in this insubstantial empire of dust
where science will not suffice
sooner or later he shall end by coming to his knees
before the darkness, the death and the distance.

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