Torches

 Poetry 7

Flames licking piano keys

The burning heap hides sinister secrets

Strangled, fake bodies buried high

Tied in knots to wrap your fingers 'round

Inferno for the warmth and the

poor guy never stood a chance

Toppling strings send the cat scurrying

with the last of his sanity

The gift that takes and eventually gives

A makeshift grave, a ditch where the wheel stopped spinning

Is anyone truly living or just running from

the guns and germs and steel?

Words like worms from the gaping jaws of leaders

Wriggling in the dirt, bloated from the downpour

Birds singing of the shore

Closer, closer, nevermore

Black feathers in the gray night

Bloodshot eyes begging for the right

to a standard of living above surviving

Laughter cracking like a whip and shattered porcelain

Dots and dashes, patterns in morse code

Letting us know, the horoscopes never could have seen

this coming of a pale horse

Forced to drink tainted water

Lead into the last one

Concerto blaring its death rattle

Warning of smoke and a red sun in the morning

[Inspired by Hangover Square and Bloodborne]