Wafts of musk seeping through the slits
Strains of song floating through the
still air
Images flashed
Of memories lost
And nothing is, but what is not
The beast crouched in a corner
licking his wounds, hackles raised
Glistening eyes betrayed the defiant façade
Threatening, or self-defence?
Knife cut in, then twisted twice
Pulled out, and thrust in again
Poignant reminders
Repetitive thrusts
Cut deep into the bowels
Unremorsefully.
The wounded beast blinked
The lights became blurry stars
Mocking, shining on him
The future’s bright, or so they say
Cynical beast says
The dark hurts at the end of the day.
dejectium out
0453
hrs gmt +8
14
may 2003