Asylum For The Dead Poem by Michael Eugene Cantrall

Withered beings haunt these misty hallways,
And murmur curses at the mossy walls.
There are surgeons draped in moldy green scrubs,
And nurses with their darts sting things that stir.

Beware the blue orbs that spew death's foul breath.
They seek the guests who scheme to leave this nest.

All doors deadlocked, and casements blocked.
The exits disappear.

Putrid screams vibrate within a padded cell,
And crimson inks ooze down these slimy walls,
While sawbones seek and hide the frontal lobes
Of the unwanted in this darkling zoo.

Pulses here do rest so unresponsive,
From treatments to the red life in the vein.
And down below in the hungry graveyard,
A sea of bone-dry tombstones

Sleep without a name.