Poetry Blog by The Black Bile (Macabre)

Tags from last 12 months

Cannibal Jones (96) Song (22) Teenage Poetry (4) White (3) Paralysis (2) Highway (2) Poverty (2) Ends (1) The Ravenflocks (1) Comics (1) Early (1) accustom (1) If (1) Alabama (1)

The Wizard (1) Mushroom (1) Nesses (1) Moving (1) The Cell (1) Hearth (1) Wednesday (1) Diablo (1) Burned Bridge (1) Darkness (1) Separate (1) Blue (1) Phone Calls From the Dead (1) Hours (1) Linebarger (1) Ax (1) Dishwasher (1) We lost something important that day (1) But you don't (1) Midnight (1) Road (1) Media (1) Past (1) Dreamcatcher (1) Stay (1) Pan (1) Fifth (1) Guess (1) Nevermore (1) Cul-de-Sac (1) Castle (1) The Angel is Near (1) Screen (1) Adjustment (1) Trailer (1) Red Barn (1) Ravenflocks (1) Fore (1) Panic (1) Pool (1) Enemies were close (1) Dirt Roads (1) Pig's Blood (1) Them (1) Power (1) NPDCH (1) Tent (1) Akilla (1) B-Side (1) Dressed (1) Macabre (1) The Search (1) Transitioning (1) State (1)

Macabre Theater

by The Black Bile

She Hides Behind Her Hair
Here In The Macabre Theater.
Because All My Memories Are Fuzzy
Like Old Movies
And He Walks,
And He’s Not Even A Person.
I Flick The Flashlight On.
All This Anticipation
For The Suicidal Thieves Of Night.
Into The River Of Styx,
We’re Back Into The Water.
We Could Let Him Leave,
We Could Let Him Live,
But Why Bother?
He’s Not Even A Person.

Back In...

Read and leave comments (0)

Friday 17th May 2019 4:06 pm

Cannibal Jones Macabre

Poetry Blog by The Black Bile (Macabre)

Tags from last 12 months

Recent Comments

Macabre Theater

Archive