I am ancient; there is dust in my veins
Crumbled houses, charred steeples
I am the place where things go to die.
My skin is mercury and ash
Within me, nothing survives
I am living death; there is stink
And decay where love should live
Tears have rotted my flesh.
Once there was life here; belief in a future
Slack curtains and cracked plaster remain
New growth cannot find the sun.
Do not come near; stay far from me
I offer nothing but sorrow
My still heart recalls no echo.
I bleed so much for an empty vessel
The volume is shocking but the heat
Cannot be felt through my skin.
There is a hollow place
Deep in the woods
One day you will dream this place
And there you will know my heart.