Our Timeing is All Wrong.

The ticking of the clock edges my nerves. 



Time for love? 

Time for you.

Time for me?

It is half past midnight and there is no availability. 

Chiming clocks echo through our distance.

Had you thought of me?

Seconds showing all resistance.

The hands edge our way, my heart vibrates with each tick.

My thoughts plummet further with every tock.

Mucky waters and sifting sand; without a destination our end is surely meek. 

And with no direction there’s no where for us to flock. 

Except blindly towards the sounds of the clock. 


My Banshee screams through the night breaking all barriers. 

Her wings,  like that of a scythe.

Nothing is left, from her travels, but the dread of life that she called into action.

“Stand before me.” she hisses. 

She orders all to spread her infection.

After her mission is complete, not a singular bloom will exist.

Resisting onky increases her pleasure.

“Lie before me and taste the metal.” 

“My blades of steal, will certainly release you.” She seduces. 

“Succumb to me and all shall be free.”