strange but...the words just came.

[Rayeine]

These men study the shadows beneath their shoes,
they dance upon streets and laugh at the stop lights.
For something is frozen upon the porch of their mind,
their eyes dart like spinning orange peels in mid October.
Washing and scrubbing they conquer their sins,
lying and make believe they resemble dripping ferns of compassion.
It is all but a lie.
These men whisper blood,
these men know nothing of love.
Flat painted walls resemble the inner corners of their eyes.
Dead but alive, dead but alive.
Rotting, steaming compost of destruction.
Dead but alive, dead but alive.