Sunday, 25 February 2007

Wholly Controlling the Soul

This is a solo thing
The crowd bays for blood
Chanting my name, bones ache, hands clap.
Standing alone.
Feet apart
A silence rips through the noise.
They are still; eyes glinting.
Licking lips, cracking fingers
The spotlight; no time to hide
Nakedly pleading- shreds of mercy.
They can smell the fear
Thousands of thoughts turn to your veins
And the life within them- soon to be the lack
As they suck and bleed you dry
Throw you out the window
Your empty corpse another paper bag
On the ever changing winds of success.

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