A full alley off a dead street
Refuse and lost lives in piles
Scents to quick-clog lungs
Epicenter of disease
Fluid locks of barbed wire
Wrapping around a still body
Aged and reddened by weather
Scraping along their owner’s skin
Rusted and flaking flesh
Mottled with shades of decay
Still solid and poised for motion
Strength in dead steal muscles
A brittle plastic body
Covered in dust and rot
Coiled and looming
Waiting amid its wires
Black eyes rivered with rust veins
Penetrate with violence
Steal away all but fears
Disperse a death of oil
A face of broken glass
Of dried blood and waste
Jagged and lifelessly calm
Set with a single purpose
A maw of glass shards
Red syringes and nails
A shrill utterance rips
The air apart and freezes
1 comment on “Moon’s Voice: Decay (a grey portrait)”
You write so well… It's refreshing to know that their are such poets as you in the world