Blood Moon

There is a moon stuck inside the stoplight A still unblinking gaze controlling blood tides Circulatory system like New York City in the seventies The thrashing of my tire fire heart led To the tribute of an overzealous blood tithe With the buzzing of the latch relay circuit Night and day, the cosmic light switch clicks Itself into place, there is no dusk or dawn We are burdened to tread in the interchange We are a gathering of werewolves, in need Of a blood moon, craving catharsis and hope There is no time to pencil in a reverie A daily scene, like a living nightmare Turning us into cybernetic lycanthropes