Everynight Halloween

By -

Black, burn,

Twist, turn 

Back and forth,

Nothing worth

The twist and the crack,

The writhing pain,

The black at my back

And the derailed train

Of my thoughts

As I prance wide-eyed and wild 

Lost as a child

In a pumpkin-patch of briars

As the moon climbs higher 

Than common sense, and clear

The smog makes a blear

Of a mockery to haunt,

To make my face gaunt 

As my eyes flicker back 

And the crack of the briar 

Makes me flinch like a fire

At the tip of the candle.

Slow-drip burn, senses run slower

Under the darkness of the Sower

In the interrupted deafening of this silent night.


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