Deep within the city, hidden among
the high-rise buildings, the noise and the bright lights,
it waits, cold and soulless,
as clinking coins flow through bony fingers.
An angel of death, black wings fluttering soundlessly,
it floats upon the marbled edge of an uptown office building.
Whispering, watching, waiting,
feeding off the soulless decay,
waiting for those poor souls with nothing left.
It grins its skeletal grin,
from deep within the confines of a rotting shroud,
as another sack of once-living meat hits the pavement,
the soul flowing upwards like smoke from a cigarette,
twisting, gaining substance,
only to be swiftly snatched from the air
and thrust into a sack.
From somewhere far below,
the air tinged with a potent cocktail
of brimstone and regret,
a faint scream echoes through the cracks
in the pavement.
They gather and laugh, sadistically,
as they swing their burnished scythes…
Another successful harvest,
on another of these dark black hopeless nights.
Across the city, in a little custard yellow apartment building,
a woman stands framed in a plate-glass window,
as a single tear rolls down her cheek,
falling softly into her nearly empty wineglass.
A shadow passes near her window,
raven wings passing quickly over her face,
caressing her, tempting her,
and a cold gust of air kisses her spine.
She shudders, and pours herself another glass.
Not tonight, not tonight.
- Where:The room that never was
- Feeling: drained
- Current Music:"Black Wedding" - Meg and Dia