This city street scene's eerily
static thus as am I in fear of
still life disturbance but wind
livened journals allude morning's
grown restless so I'll venture
forward, fetching second gesture
to musings of day. Superfluous
sunlight clears way for stretched
shadows sending ripples through a
day birth once known as dawn,
disruptions which may have
encouraged awakening but none in
the sense I've seen before. I
believe things are quite deathly
wrong or it's the finest surprise
party ever conceived so if I cry
out will streets begin flow or've
the veins of this metropolis
abruptly run dry? I chance venture
greetings shaking still morn,
bodies creeping alleys in
Romeresque reply instantly
alerting that things have gone
wrong for in late night trips to
make out flicks I've seen their
stance before. Quite suddenly
surroundings seem so vividly
surreal as I hear the grind of
bone on bone nearing my left ear
and in my vision sure appears a
fast decaying face, it's jaws
surround my collar in a jugular
embrace.