Peering out
Through the cracks in my haven of steel.
Tin foiled windows catch the winters sun
Shimmering like saint Micheals holy armor.

Smothering the wicked world from my sight
Choking out the cancerous light.

Go outside, they said.
Who said?
Was it the rats inside the walls?
Or the voices in my head?

Step out side the doors of sanctuary,
Hinged between safety and destruction
Deathly pallor, piss filled sores of scarlet,
Spread like constellations against rotting flesh.

All brutally exposed now,
Naked against the pitiless sun,
Scathed by the blood thirsty stares of passer-byes’.

Strolling,
Feet against the frozen pavement
Form a rhythm, chant chant
Whisper up the words:

Go home
Go home
Go home
Go home

Obsidian trees
Silhouetted skeletons
Against the hell scape,
Winter barren claws
Ready to seize my throat

Into town now.

Whispers falling from the lips of everyone
Pervade the filthy air.
Whispers about me.
 
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