she stands proud in sturdy brick, free from the stagnant mangle of rotting vines, where river view is not opposed to her devout endeavors, window’s patient panes catch what remains when time’s accumulation lingers, devoted pillars of the meek and mighty drag day where night is clever
step not on yielding toes when playful ghosts tag you, you’re it forever, haunt favored halls with rent’s lament, true money’s dent follows a penny’s leader, years drag down diamonds like star crumbs on cupcake rubbish, poets decorate their words on faint facades that decades long to feed her
Question Horn Early Competition Afterthought Superficial
she’s sired at midnight in his last starving hour, weighty vamp’s sweet thirst is quick to devour, the afterthought of twisted horns is fang’s dark grip, where moon reflects a frantic maul’s harsh sip
he’s early competition in the scrambled song of fiction, where muffled screams are silent diction, tears are vacant tunes, superficial cries are jagged thorn’s last question to the stars. stifled screams fill vampire music jars, colder tunes are born