under the moon
beasts ran rampant
during the witching hour.
her flesh was on display
bathed in the accelerant.
he connected fingers
and let them be his eyes.
the night was for the young.
old men watched the festival
reminisce on yester year
smiled and winced
at the world they created.
the youth know this to be true
somewhere down
the line of sight is lost.
the one with the shattered hand
decided to walk
take stock of his surroundings.
he limped through the ravine
watched the lighting bugs dance
waited for an imaginary street light to flicker on.
he thought all things in life are odd
remembered what her skin felt like
how smooth it was
as the foam engulfed them.
he stood there stuck in time
as the moon kept light on his path to follow.
