THE CLOWNS

The laughter invades your minds ear; you cannot escape its haunting echo
You claw for reasoning, trying to grasp explanations for the chaos
You ponder oblivion and eternity, wandering which is most forgiving
Your deeds speak with no words, Tearing at your mental flesh
You hide in the open, praying the light covers your darkness
Then your primordial cravings begin piercing the limitless chasms of your mortal being Grinding

the dismal screams that echo aimlessly about your minds ear, slowing to a murmur
The voices have no face, only desolation and dismay rapid about their lips, as there essence embraces your primal fears
Forcing you to retreat inwardly to the days when warriors feasted upon the flesh of a fresh kill,

gorging their mouths with crimson water while supplying their souls with an unquenchable taste of death
Allowing your mind to resend to the days when the fields were your castles and the woods

your fortress, hiding amidst the darkness, chasing the light with a vengeance into any crevice that could contain your rancid thoughts
Searching upon the waters surface for the purest of evil that lurks under the ripples, as you blood burns and your eyes leak fire

you can feel the embrace of the insanity as it seeps into your pours like dull hooks tearing into your flesh
Your desire for the pain supersedes the conscious state that you dwell in so you succumb to the pleas of terror only to be dogmatic in your ravings
Crushing any that oppose the morbid rants and the vile curses that emanates from your being,

encompassing the evil only to hear the screams of those you have disemboweled,

once again echoing inside your very existence, as you cradle your head
Rolling your helpless body into a fetal position, knowing that the muscles which allow you Samson like strength

are immanently useless and provide no relief from the chanting in your head
It’s the loudest silence piercing your soul, and as you reach for help your skin drips from your fingertips burnt by the flames of insanity
Your breathing slows and the stench of death now grows with every bead of sweat, inhaling the flavor of cannibalism

, as your spirit feeds upon the thoughts spewing from your mind, and the brain spins hopelessly into utter chaos,

leaving a trail of self mutilation and dismay in its wake, the light breaks, like a beacon guiding a ship in the turmoil on the wicked seas of salvation

, every crashing wave removing another layer of doubt, washing clean the remains of the feast you were partaking of, the senses revived
You awake in a pool of your resurrection, arising from the chains that harbored your essence

and still as you remove yourself for the day from the grasp of demise, the screams they still echo,

you can never escape their ominous howl; again you must run from the mere sound that causes your bones to shudder
Now you must flee the loudest peacefulness you have ever encountered, brought about by your own hands of horror
Can you ever escape? Will you ever break free from the Grasp? Can you Outlive the Haunting Screams that Echo from the……. Silence of the Dead