Woe

Empty barrels floating about without purpose, holding dark mildew and undead bones; creak and waver with the tides and winds as moonlit gardens fall adrift upon an eyeless maiden’s shoulders. My eyes sway back and forth as a mast in hurricane winds fleeing open waters searching for the cooler northern winds. Mountains may break my ascent beyond the sight of drifting barrels that taunt me so. I can do no more harm to those barrels as my eyes dart back and forth over plains and fields and trees of forests. Hollow eyes drench me in darkness beyond that of night. Tearing my heart from my chest becomes less difficult than eyeing the darkness, thus I light the organ on fire and look all about. Such a sincere torch is all I can trust within this whirlwind of woe I find myself. Breathing is fevered and my heart of course now on fire, feels nothing of the chills that rack the remainder of my body. I am alone. All I see is the ribs of the empty carcass I now reside within. I no longer have the strength to crawl back through those eyes and embrace the storms about the hair so silver and free. And thus I sit and dwell upon the sternum waiting for some tissues to grow and bring life once more, to this empty shell.