The Toll of Midnight

The ticking tells me it grows near
The clicking of heels in halls of fear
That Midnight draws ever near

Panting of breath and dripping sweat
I meet my nightmares where we once met
Stolen to the black and to terror swept

I lose myself under the vault of night
Beholding horrors and nameless sights
Soul becoming frigid, murdering its own light

Voiceless I scream faced with faceless things
Over-choired by harmonies that sing
Of nothingness and near-forgotten hauntings

Madness lies in the ticking of the clock
Fear like wolves stalking the timid flock
Waiting by the door for death's terminal knock

It is the encroaching, the slow succumbing
The thing I fear most—its becoming
The toll of Midnight's nightly coming

Ex Tempore LXXXIII
M.M. — 20-Aug-2014