Scarecrow shuffles
through cyclopean tunnels ceaselessly
searching for someone
to reap
His scythe a sharp scimitar
slices through the air
like a serpents tongue scenting
for the death pheromone
Slowly someone stumbles
in a drunken stupor
a listing ship
heading to its berth
Black Cat crosses your path
unnoticed in the ***** fog
Marked now
it is certain
Scarecrow will surely come for you
poor drunkard shall not see the morning.