Foul is this feeling
As it navigates the bones
And comes to me as softly and as sweetly as a melody
Through a murder hole
Vespers of violence recorded in tongues
From larynxes of larks are sung
Atop the belfry of history up which we climb so desperately
Breaking every rung
The unrung bell tolls
Blinded by the sensation
As it pierces flesh and bone
And comes as suddenly and sullenly as a melody unaccompanied
Through a murder hole
L'appell du vide and the scent of sunlight through your hair
Is beckoning and bargaining and pushing farther our retreat
Blindfolded down spiral stairs
The unrung bell tolls
Bombardment of disharmony at a trillion frames per second
Floods the mirror with enmity and dangle bliss in suspension
Wading chest high
Harbor of soul
Beaconcrest light
Flickers in rhythm to the unrung bell's toll