The Feast of the Hollow King

The Feast of the Hollow King

Silver knives on brittle bone,
Carving meat that’s long outgrown,
Candles drip with rancid wax,
Hollow eyes through broken cracks.

Guests arrive with stitched-up grins,
Veins of rot beneath their skins,
Raise a toast to the Hollow King,
Where shadows crawl and maggots sing.

Feast upon the lies we’ve spun,
Dance among the damned and done,
Raise your glass and drink decay,
For the Hollow King must dine today.

Moldy bread and worm-filled wine,
Songs of death in fractured rhyme,
Gnarled fingers scrape the plates,
Hungry souls at cursed gates.

Twisted tongues recite the hymn,
Praise the King with sockets grim,
Bones that creak in waltz and whirl,
Rotting masks in ghostly twirl.

Crawl through filth to kiss his ring,
Bare your throat and let it sting,
He will feast until you’re bare,
Till marrow leaks and souls despair.

Feast upon the lies we’ve spun,
Dance among the damned and done,
Raise your glass and drink decay,
For the Hollow King must dine today.

When the dawn ignites the sky,
Guests will rot and maggots cry,
But the Hollow King in his throne of bone,
Will wait for night to reclaim his own.