I perambulate

Slowly,

My feet move

Robotically,

With no help from me.

My heart beats

Like a kettle drum

In an empty cavern,

Pushing congealing blood

Through resistant veins.

Sinews, taut

Like barbed wire,

Rip at muscle,

And flesh, alike.

My hands hang limp,

One grasps a dark flask

Of dark red viscous

Liquid.

Above,

A sullen sky

Threatens.

I approach a dark forbidding door,

And tug a rope.

Inside, bells crash

Through empty halls.

The door creaks open,

And there stands

A vision,

Of pure malevolence.

I find my voice

And rasp,

"Hello, Mother-in-Law,"

"I've brought your Sherry."

                                             _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Owain Glyn