Gothic Hands

A Poem by The Noose

It sat in the viscera that winter

It all did

The unfed energy of madness
The unbridled
Recklessness
Foaming at the mouth
Virulent
Bordered and contained
The bloody footprints
Of choice
Deranged rationalisations
Virulent
Bordered, not contained
Seeping through the fissures of sanity
Tipping at the very edge of reason
Where once blousy hydrangea bloomed
Cradling the night
The gothic hands of time
Stood frozen.