Feral

He moves with
coiled precision, skinned teeth
edged between curled lip

Blue chips of ice
determination and anger
carving through the snow with
a curved serrated edge.

Point a direction
and like a hound on the scent
the hunt begins with ferocious

intent. Blood spills, death
weaves in his shadow, the lullaby
of sharpening knives on the
whet of patient pursuit.

Her tears may wash the
blood from his hands
but the stains on his soul

only deepens. It never
stops the tide of all
who have died, but
he fights his way through

the cloud that consumes
the life source, draining away
every drop. Family fade one
by one, bodies swallowed

by the earth, one after the other.
He screams into the abyss that
answers with a cool resounding

silence. Awash in his regrets
the scribbles ache past the
skin, the farewells suffocating,
the failures compounding.

Put him down, they whisper
as he stumbles along, the
glint of final night devouring his soul.

You've lent me your ears... now borrow mine:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: