The sun stops it's shine
and sets down to slumber
the world follows suit
snoozing snugly in covers.
We've all heard the proverb
and proverbs are always right
So as the darkness descends
the freaks come out at night.
Drunk from the moonshine
under the crescent's buttery glow
they stagger along the earth
no worldly worries, no facades to show.
The opposums can blossom
and rifle through trash,
under the scowls of the owls
who question but never ask,
It's a time for the queer
the ones who break the meter
never quite fitting the rhyme
or the polished mold of the formal.
But the darkness welcomes all,
the filthy, decrepit, and the abnormal,
This gift of abyss
is yours to take hold of
and do what you wish,
but be sure to act fast
the moon's spell doesn't last.
Before you know it,
the burning alarm clock will shout
and then the true freaks
will awake and come out.
YOU ARE READING
Herban Poetry
PoetryA small but ever-growing collection of original poetry from the mind of a 19 year old pothead. This is home to a large range of thoughts, feelings, and ideas that cloud my head in poetry form.
