These horror corridors, erratic,
Aged in oil, no known schematic,
Contorted without end or start,
Between the stars that ripped apart.
From out of darkness, darkness falls,
Creeps lattice floors and barren walls.
She, calculated, cruel and coarse;
No fear, no pity, care, remorse.
Past leaking pipes and daggered halls,
As bleating screens scream warning calls,
These rusted vents here warp and weep
Above, below, that wail, that creek.
The sweating corpses litter floors
And bloated chests spread little whores,
As vacuums draw unneeded breath;
Unwilling host – unwanted guest.
Stowed away on faceless guile
And feasts on flesh a little while,
To pull the skin aghast the bone
While skulking walkways far from home.
With spiteful spit and hissing roars,
She, part organic, metal claws;
Her perfect structure, flawless shell,
Cast in chains, bound to hell.
Appears in silence, in it stays,
Mere echos of the chaos made.
In shadows cast by unknown Suns
With swift efficiency, undone.
Where shredded skin and powdered bone,
Drift in billions, miles from home.
She, part organic, metals seams
Ensures that no one hears her screams.
Copyright © Simon Austin 2016