Death Clouds by C.L. Snyder

The storm dances closer, looming, zooming in, I have no where to go.

The whirlwind whispers my name like a voice in the shadows of your closet.

Hot white claws shred a path to me.

I’m breathless in a flurry of movement surrounding me, pulling my clothes, my hair, and my strength along with the whole of the Earth to this beast.

It booms with each inch gained, a thunder drum sounding my death to all.

With ravenous hunger it descends.

Grey furry turning a head-spinning circle round and round as a chours of my name chains me in place.

I’m bathed in bright red drops staining me, weighing me down into its nothingness.

In another place I hear the anguish cry of my former love.

In this place I hear the faint sirens of the Calvary that will arrive in vein.

In this place I smell the blood as it mixes with the lavender water.

And here,

In this place,

I feel the prick of the razor as it settles down against my skin, beneath the crimson water.