Moon’s Voice: Decay (a grey portrait)

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