the blue neck.
the lonely echo.
tomorrow, in the light, where
a gurney is perched, they will
mourn the coming doom
of cold silence.
the ethnic way.
the soft blonde, tupelo honey lays
lifeless with open eyes and
weary hands.
a eulogy for the fair.
an effigy for the unborn,
and those left to live
in voiceless absence.

here, the merry men play, dancing
suede suits to disguise
the cigar, a facade to hide
what the crooked, blue neck won't

an hour hand that spins
faster, faster
loud, louder
as the whisper of a youth
bleeds the ears of 10,000 demons.