sometime after midnight/
a foggy captured scene/seen through glassy eyes
androgynous figure stumbling/down hushed,dim streets
maybe it is a Statement, a Proclamation
that these streets are sacred.
the lantern eyes/elusive lids
the mouth,neon red not blood just flashing desperate tired light
the hair is short and such/a lovelylight color lovelyshining from the grease
it sings. it sings softly
"down the darlings fall
when their mothers call
when the breeders of their souls
take back the beaten molds
to build just one more tortured heart
heaping the leftover limbs (into Death's cart"
the voice is a hot dry breeze that blows blows through
the city as a warning that something is coming
look away children, lock your doors-
hide in your bed don't let the song
reach your ears.
sometime after midnight/
the tearful songs die
last drop in the bottle finished and it crashes onto the pavement.
someone in the morning will sweep up the pieces.
YOU ARE READING
Generic Landscape Views
Poetryshoved under my fingernails are your postcards / with their scalloped edges and generic landscape views
