Drained of corporeal life
Swamp lights dancing a slow dirge
I bleed out in the mire

Ascending, I make new vows
Time is now broken
Pliable to this fevered will
They will burn like November

No need for the rib spreader
A meteor-shower arrival
Will end in cataclysmic departure

Amid the flames and bone fragments
I will forever be the filament in this eternal beacon
Guiding the forcefully departed
To the crooked gates of Hell

First appeared in The Indiana Horror Review 2016.