Tonight.
Tonight the cold steals from us.
The bones ache-
With the haggard moon in droop.
There are static lights but no sound,
The colds got intentions but no voice.
I walk the barren street,
All cast in the skies purple.
He lies there.
Never knows the time.
Never sober.
Night and day: one-
Stuck not knowing where it begun.
The victim of man,
Skeletal frame curled like a child.
Sleep brought on by his infusion:
Thought malleable by the delusion.
I see him every night.
A broken man, surrounded by the pack:
The prowlers and hunters,
Scuffed and sliced-
Dogs that own this night.
Somehow they mope around him,
Fur meets skin.
They are there,
Biting children-
But never him.
The snarling starts,
The warnings out.
I know not the reason-
For them to idle him so.
There is no reward.
Nothing by him to be given,
Other than his soul…lost.
The image never leaves;
The question stays the same.
All I know –
Is he will be there,
And so shall they too.
