Theories of old bones

they passed by flames almost out
 here even the wind destroys bones
 time turns into space bones ache
 drawn out like an ache bones space
 it smelled like slow death bones ache
 and they crawled along the floor hungry and lean and looking for more
 the stench followed me out of the gloom, a ghost of rage
 a memory of cruel fatigue screams heard bone deep
 there is nothing to breathe into the heart the cold drifted
 to the pit where we twist and cringe bones ache
 huddled away from the daylight pale and white
 hollowed into a numbness no need for pain or wasting disease
 for it's the same ragged tangle of fears,
 the same strange sense of aimlessness
 that knot of rage scoured the floor of the skull
 life had drifted away to some far off point inside leaving the body to automatic ruin
 fall through the ether and that slow sweat of time gnawing at my entrails
 silent as the drift of death