Passage
Psyche swoops
Low to the ground
Cloaked in anonymity
In the pitch black of night
Quiet, barely breathing
Hanging
In the balance
Nothing to give
Nothing to take
Passing through dark alleys
And stench-ridden stairwells
Littered with days-old detritus
And the glow of eyes
Half alive
Half tethered to
Another world
Where laughter, mad and demonic
Is the only kind you hear
Searching for hope
Escape from chains
And finding nothing
But past-due depravity
The most insidious kind
And rock bottom sadness
Lurking below
Borne of the notion
Pervasive potential
That every step means
Nothing more
Than passage into the
Abyss
August 26, 2009 at 11:56 am
That’s dark. I could picture it like a movie scene. Very cool.
August 26, 2009 at 4:35 pm
Mmmm. Past-depravity is one of the best phrases ever. All is not lost even in dark times. Things matter. What you do matters. What you say matters.
August 26, 2009 at 8:19 pm
Vic, yes, dark. Movie scene? Wow, cool…if only!
August 26, 2009 at 8:20 pm
M’lady, I knew I could count on you.