Dark Poet

Filled with undigested thoughts,
their stygian murmur drones.
I release them from my mind
and read them like a shaman's bones.

They speak to me of love's despair,
of pain, of death, and worse.
They sing to me in dulcet tones,
each one a darker verse.

There, trapped within a dark recess,
I hear a moaning, plaintive wail.
I somehow find the courage
to free this loathsome thing from jail.

A thought, so dark and vile,
that it stains my very soul,
yet I must give it life in words.
I must make it whole.

Its fevered taint finds purchase
in my rhyming words.
It sprawls across white pages
so its darkness can be heard.

Delivered from its shackles,
I place it on parole.
I find that I am free at last
of its droning control.

Still, no peace comes to me
from the voices of the dead,
who forever torment me
from the shades within my head.


Notes
No - the photo isn't a prompt - I found it on www.deviantart.com and it seemed to visually fit the words I had written.

For those not familiar with my vocabulary
stygian - Gloomy and dark; infernal; hellish
shaman - a person who acts as intermediary between the natural and supernatural worlds
shade - a specter or ghost

Thank you for taking the time to read my words... Please, take a few moments and leave a comment.  Corrections, reactions, criticism, even praise is welcome

Ken