For when the darkness comes, through the
streets it lurks.
The long bulky figures slowly disappear
inside.
In the alleyway they go, rolling past it all,
nothing to see but shadows
In the alleyway they go,
rolling past it all,
nothing to see
but shadows
Appearing anonymous to the people outside
oblivious, all is dingy within.
All are perfectly lined up, randomly with no
avail or order.
Dim lights make their way on the dirt path.
Engines running,doors slam, and all silence
follows.
The back, stalks a mountain, which can
faintly stare upon you.
Up the top of it, every movement is visible.
All slippery ice, hardened soil, and dead
leaves.
Early morning rises, and the figures come
alive. Exiting with notion. One tails the
other.
The yard drains of them, all empty… it is
what it is.