This is the place
where the streets
swallow you whole.
The demons rise through
the cracks
from the hell hole below.
You need to have eyes
in the back of your head
to avoid the walking dead.
They congregate.
A mass of clenched fists,
hissing at passers-by.
Keep your wits.
Eye the pavements.
Don't step on the cracks.
Don't ask any questions.
Just walk right past.
Footsteps behind,
echoes pound
from empty buildings.
A strangled sound
building in your throat.
Caught in the chokehold
of fear. Fight or flight.
Step faster
into the darkness.
avoid the strobe light
casting looming shadows
nearby. Sight blurred by night.
But we are the children
of moon light. These streets
are burned into our feet.
The fields of fiery concrete.
These hours are all for us
to sing our songs.
To energise the stardust.
Fear doesn't belong.
It has no seat
at our table,
when the moon
is telling us her fables.
Thanks for reading
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
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