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This place

Hearts pulsonic beatings dictate unease.
The sight and sounds of torturing pain
grind the eardrums and curse the eyes.
This is no civilisation this oath rended reality.
Turning my eyes away
greets other stinging eyes
other deep darknesses of soul
and weeping spirits.
I am not alone on this hill
within this caged sarcophagus of time,
yet solitude is all that permeates
the mire of delaying death.
The sick-sweet smell of spilled blood,
Sweat, and silenced tears,
strikes all thought with heated coals.

Yet here I am again
In this place.
It's here I draw my friends:
not to endure such a scene,
not to witness all hells pain,
not to share my suffering,
but to know love in truth and deed.
Not to receive my love,
for my bloodless love is weak
of self-pitys anguished caress.
This place, where wine flows and bread is broken,
where splintering nail is not enough to steal love away,
this place where a rended curtain unstains all.