Sunday, 5 December 2010

The Winter Before The Storm

Cold graffiti scribbles,
Fading back into the wall,
Scars healing over time,
Echos of happiness, pain, and anger,
Fill this alleyway;
Cries of the dead within,
The abatois of life.

Heavy abiguous boots,
Crushing crunching, cold snow,
Cold skin an expression,
Of the cold heart within,
Frosty breath bellowing out,
Cigarette smoke distorted vision,
Fog on the morning sea.

Dead faces play host,
To dead eyes and minds;
Butterflies flying out to sea.
The blind walking blindfolded,
Footprints on top of footprints,
Just Russian dolls in the snow;
Rats fighting over dead meat.

Warm whiskey filling an empty glass,
Arm clinging on tight,
To a warm and sticky bar;
Greiving widow on a coffin.
Silent thoughts pass through,
Like the ships to port in the night;
A scavenging fox through the twilight city.

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