Icy winds frost the lining of my lungs sending chills throughout my spine. My hands tremble, and fingers ache with arthritic pain; numb everywhere I'm not in malaise.
Shapes maneuver in translucence defined in eerie hues. Watching... or stalking more like, as I brave the world under the guise of night.
A graveyard of decay gives birth to winter. It's flesh, under foot and in crowded gutters; while what's living coughs up its crystals and slaves over its refuse. What an undeniably unbalanced exchange!
Scars mark my body like dotted lines on a treasure map. They cross my heart as I hope to find that elusive jewel never before seen in light.
If love were a rope, it'd be 100 years old and tied around my throat asphyxiating what little air I can extract from the cold.
I am alone, and all hope lies in two disfigured claws half frozen into fists.
So I go home and bathe in bloodied soil
Fading all that makes me flesh and pale
(Longing to wake... when day... is always)
Armed with the ability to view the night
From home; safe against the lashings of
This annual pharaoh, who lives...
Behind the shadows.
By: Jaye Eryk
Copyright ©2008
