the darkest hour is just before dawn

the skies are open, ominous above

the clouds float by in oblivious innocence

her shadows play as she sits

lost in the maze of her wildest dreams

her hands, her tools scribble something

of beauty and decay, charcoaled covered fingers

paint a pretty picture, a tumble of words

on a rose coloured page

darkness be my friend

meet me at midnight.

(memories of a moon child)

prince charming and his sleeping beauty. tall. dark.

handsome. only comes out at night.

perfect.  happy hallowwweeen. 

a heart hammering on tremulous thoughts like a lonely drum

its wings flapping like many chickens caught in a flimsy cage

bones creaking and withering under its great plight

to escape

to drown on the tears of sorrow and remorse

Who is the ghoul who lives within her?

Running laps around her heart chamber

Tugging hard on her strings like oars

forcing her to set sail on rough seas with no control

no safe passage only a bottle of rum 

and a bottle of whisky for comfort

the path ahead full of sharp jagged rocks 

which could cut through the sensitive wood of her bough 

like a hot knife on butter sinking her

at any moment

to the cruel harsh depths of a battered sea below

there is no one down there, 

only the sharks and the fishes and the octopus

slimy long armed beasts ready to suck the life out of any poor soul

what has one done to deserve this fate?

the tree of life should surely sprout from her limbs

green pastures open on her chest 

daisys grow on her pretty cunt mound

rose petals for her skin with diamonds for eyes

instead the ugly waft of decay surrounds her 

and she becomes the skunk

a rodent 

a four legged beast with a habit of self sabotage

eating it’s own tail for food, 

fur falling out in clumps onto the broken ice beneath its feet

scuttling one way, another, never making a right decision

a dizzy creature of the night, digging holes

until a single toot and the hurry of hushed feathered wings

leaves nothing but a bloody mess of gristle and bone 

on the patch of dirt of which it called home