converse with monstersMature

cacophony in my head.
voices are soundless but
for the ring of disquiet.

vultures circling, cutting
patterns in the sky.  they
sing of demise and hunger.

breathe in the ashen air,
clutch it in crackling lungs.

words like breezes stirring up leaves.
the tap of tree branches on windows.
I dread the sound of steps on the stairs.

The End

32 comments about this poem Feed