The Coming Swarm

Of grander visions, delusions abound
 Stark conjurations, and the means unsound
 In the coming swarm of my thoughts I'm found
 Upon broken pillars of doubt and down
 On fractured limbs wounded left to crawl
 Through the wash and tide, engulfed and sprawled
 Out barren, bleeding, ripped open all
 To the endless ocean of my back I call
 Tossing in its throes again
 Transposing prose to verse
 Preparing for the worst again
 So do your worst
 No borrowed tenets of corroding faith
 Just contradictions and eroding shame
 In of what was nothing, now is even less
 In my dying hour nothing to confess
 Born adrift in a flooding plane, rotting stench in a forgotten wreck
 Receding waters, fermenting flesh
 Oppressive sickle now reaping death
 Littered carcass, bone and dust
 Wounded sky raining will to rust
 Iron core struck against the stone
 Tattered, broken, strewn
 Darkened skies, fixed to pen lament
 Haunted vigil, no relent
 Seeding vengeance, bleeding wrath
 Fixed upon their battlements