The Bats.

Dark dark the jocund space with downy flesh Black bannered hideous gloomier than rest Under the low hanging tattered rugged sky Float clouds dark tortured low lit as night. A shoal of bats deep as rust Tight footed damp smeared descend Over the houses streets and creeks Invading the dark deep dungeons in heaps. The dungeon of my brain creeks and racks While the shoal of obnoxious foxes descend Each one fighting and probing deeper headed Sucking last drainage of my refelled blood. The fury of my blood has made them blind In bunches they grope shriek and prowl Blinded nerve rotten hindered to crawl. Tired and thick with banging their heads Against rafters spokes nails and knives Hopelessly will hang themselves over cobwebs Dimly constrained lured dumb and defied. There they will hang like hope forlorn Pitted from the depth drums will be sounded The likes & days of noisier time will sanction The shades of escape then will be outbounded Hands of doom will climb to clutch their forms And squeeze their brains along bloody hawthorn.