Grief

A hulking, black, accumulation of bereavement audaciously seeps into an infinitesimal fissure carved in the stone surface. It is a bleeding vapor with the breath of kraken; cold but sickly, feverish and sticky with perspiration. Clammy claws cringe for an instant but boldly move forward to the pulsing core.
Every beat
Soon secretes
Oozing sores
Through closed doors
Every whine
Taps in time
He sees the heart so innocent and safe; it falters at his presence. Each thrum sends power to this diabolical creature. Growing and stretching into every crevice, his tendril fingers reach the delicate, life-giving organ. He produces a calcified, rust ridden, dagger barbed and scarred with age and begins to slice wildly at the beating flesh. No smooth edge to neatly wound; grief ravages his victim.