Black and White Stares

When the curtains close
With their familiar hiss
When times starts to miss
In it's glacial flow
Light flashes on inside
And eyelids shutter out
Sanity has naught to shout
About, the mind-releasing ride
Till the working day hum
Is reduced to a murmur
A screaming lemure
With some mouldy stick gum
Caught in its feral grip
Beady eyes blood
Shot, tears of mud
And on the clock ticks
Neither knowing or caring
In the land of the living.


Along the chest crawling
With slowness deliberate
Seeking to contemplate
The moments drawing
Tantalising near
Broken bones
Broken homes
Feeding on the fear.
Mouth agaping mess
Snarling or smiling
Always reviling
Those not snatched by death
Alive and twisted
Twisting perception
Jagged ganglion
Sweat marianaded.
All the better for eating.
Till curtains open
And lights breathe on
And on the clock ticks
Neither knowing nor caring
In the land of the breathing