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Song Sung in Mourning, Days Prior to Eve of All Things Hollow and In Fear

Got to make time for mourning

Else the night is all there’ll ever be

Got to make time for mourning

Or the dark’s all you’ll ever see


Motion lights tripping fancy

Neon nets collect the tribe

Offering subscriptions long

Since unsubscribed—

Potions, desk-clerks, and operations not quite right,

Losing the rib-cage way back when, when time

Was but a part of the wit and wryly fit into all of this


Winter will be here soon

Quickly approaching from the north

It shall sheet us in her white

Making all the bones chill at the thought of their sight of each

Leftover lingering from last night


Dying ain’t easy

Or so they say

But I always find myself wondering

How’d they research this and

how reliable was the source


So desperate for attention

We say the most remarkable things,

And what seems inane at first, we listen for a reassuring less-unfriendly voice—


Simmering are the shades that glisten,

All the while as time ferments, casting out

The aromas of misplaced fights—frigid cold, brazen, bold, and yes,

The smirking always shows as they cross the meandering light, out of

Focus in their gaze, as the pass the shadowed space, just slightly parallel to where

The forgeries rest in agitation

In isolated disdain

Their cries

Are heard

at a distance much further

than from where you remain up on the wall of such a deadly place




About hobgoblin2011

I'm a poet and aspiring screenwriter/songwriter with a passion for film, art, photography, philosophy and heavy metal. I love reading, mainly non-fiction, comic books, graphic novels, myth and reference. Family always comes first for me. I'm a proud father to two wonderful pups and two curious cats. I'm also a glutton for punishment aka the life of being a diehard Buffalo Bills and Sabres fan.

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