posted on Jan, 30 2015 @ 01:55 PM
girl & jackal.
Under the cold orange glow, cold like the strongest rays of escaping light,
Hurled forth through millennia
From a star
Dead for eons,
This street light casts lambent death over her head
Cloaks her in purity,
Revealing that which should have been left unseen.
To the encircling darkness
Where those skeletal, ugly
For all their ravening desire,
Lie in breathless wait.
All around her is This City,
The #ed up
The tuned out
The malign revelers with their bone white masks
The Nowhere kids
All loping, same as a thousand ropes of slaver flung across a field of ashes
the burned out yet not quite deserted buildings, blackened underbellies of overpasses, unlit narrow spaces.
Loping for miles
Over fissured concrete like filthy ice
And asphalt like pitted scrying glass,
All through a cityscape innocent of rightness.
Their movements keep up This City's slow pulse
Just befouled blood
Slithering through a
She can feel the writhing darkness just nearly upon her
Never really held at bay
(And just now felt and smelled a tepid carrion sigh)
By this glaring orange veil of the streetlight,
Presenting this perfect bride
In its merciless flourish of dull brightness
Something offering itself
To be devoured.
Nothing good ever really happens out here 3:27 am,
She's had her education. Banking on it.
Nothing good but
Always pure (in its essence if not in its form)
Always true (to itself if not to its victim)
Nothing good, though.
Not as we have seen.
Not in This City, This Nothing Good City
For those that would disappear completely
only two vital sins are required:
To make known your sickened heart and
To tread alone in dark snarling places.