Darkness blinds
And saturates...

The bell rings
Stampedes of students...

They hide
Behind masks...

War paint streaks
Malicious smiles...

6 feet under
Your hand reaches down...

Huddled I lay
Bound to the South...

Caught in the middle
Of the great tug ‘o war...

Ink stains
On her hands...

The mind
Is a corrupt thing...

Strands of hair
Aged a gray-brown hue...

The moon rises:
A single teardrop...

A wine glass
Tipped over...