lip syncing they approached wayside
rubbing hands and feathered hats
their sooty grime and pressured eyes
melted away at my demise
their eyes grew bright and large and warm
and closer closer near they came
fingers out from tattered gloves
first came soft
then rough and harsh
the weathered dying landscape
was laid threadbare again
and back into the open fell
the body of a dying girl
who hears the panther leap
quiet pads the softest feet
bare into the jungle night
and take me down, a triple feat:
blood, guts, and gore to eat
No comments:
Post a Comment