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. . .It's That Time
Shredded shadow crawlin' silently through a splintered floor
While movement stops, a starvin' soul at nothing sops.
The dreaded time, the loathful time and I can't feel the breeze.
Candy tombstone tries to hide . . .
Truths, lies, promises lay tied.
My sparkl'd eyes pass by, a memory wept, a stolen bed I kept.
Useless words I speak no more. Both listen, saint and whore.
His axe dull from death and black wreath hangs distress.
Lonely beggar, lonely thief . . .
My demise not disease, but hidden wink's grief.
From end back to start
Little children hand-in-hand; cement smiles join grin-in-grin.
White collar'd elves tip toeing spittle from peddler's broom.
Women quiet; whisper of dark cloud doom.
Is this the truth . . .?
Shadow weeping, creeping for ounce of ruth