25 January 2005

Dark (a poem)

Evil is too cunning to be conspicuous
Evil sidles, smiles and asks for a drink
or a thought
Once the arm is exposed
the needle is planted firmly in the vein
Your bled
and then
poisoned in your sleep
The concrete aorta sets.
Evil smiles and whispers
“Would you like something for that?”

1 comment:

  1. Did you write that? It's great. Can I post it in my blog?