by John Riley
A HAUNTING CURIOSITY NEVER MORE then a moment away from you, ebbing and flowing until at last reaching out to steal your life that I may continue in this living damnation. Would you not, if I were to ever give you the chance to, sink that rising hope of intention deep beneath and send me to oblivion?
The pull always comes from the tagline, some wasted heart on display and this shadow out prowling again might be a half remembered stranger.
A fog sends the lost into a new dawning week laden with greyness and threatening outside steel sharp showers gathering while eternal life is like a winter feeling locked without a key.
Some may say a Peeping Tom, maybe once, safely cruising alone those old haunts in a sea awash with pollution and the fallen may be desperate seeking solace from a broken lost belief.
Well it may be waste to parade a life laid bare astride an old ash tree born twisted and a wreck under waves of rain while a bone coloured luminary slips between sheets of cloud and love comes in a loud scream nailed hard against the wood.
It’s time to close down secrets for there are greater ones in here and time to see out the winters in murky laden bars fighting a good fight for heart and mind against those half-forgotten prayers your kin told you against a dark phantom of the night.
I seek a moment’s grace for my time ended and leave you to seek out your own truths.
-end-
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