they are there
you may not know it but they see you,
burnt wood, the brown blood tinted grass,
you can call them something else,
but they are very much there.
amidst the ruins and skeletons
the greetings in contrived smiles,
the sureness of the drift and tenor,
they know exactly what they are doing
and where they want to take you.
in the cadence of early birds
the haunting look of the nameless beast
end up grappling on the dark clay,
if you know the right word
you can show them the ultimate door.
it’s one of those grim moments
almost impossible to be in high spirits,
taking breaths in the dusty bowl, pin down hopes
reading the disorder and chaos of life,
till they arrive and tear you apart.