Note: This is part of my Autumn poetry series. An unravelling of the world around me. Enjoy!

Going down the lane,
Dark boxes pass,
Eyes stacked, in rows
packs riding the roads
Of broken creatures,
Hunched over,
An orb lit up from hands,
Voodoo magic in demand.

Blow up the face,
Aching to merge,
Cut open, watch closely,
Scale down the descent,
Into an endless hole.

Here I am left with lights
Beaming over,
The dark corners,
Forming comfort centers,
How long,
Safe festers in here,
I stand awe-struck.

Is this world such a disaster?
That it needs a large undoing,
Before it comes in sight.

Is this world so dark and dull?,
That a part is burnt to crisps
to light up the rest.

Is this world so devilishly boring?
That stimulants must be taught
to swim the veins.

Forget not,
Every night has a day,
Even the stubborn sun,
Breaks dawn at bay.
But who beside me,
Waits for the display,
When all the hunchbacks,
are caught by display,
Fresh to fall into,
The bright white well.

Other posts:

• Kneading the dough
• God is a machine
• Where is my beating heart?
• Belts and Conveyors
• I pictured nothing, but got everything