Woods Are Dark

Woods are dark Woods are dark with owls chatting to the black cats stabbing through the point of a sliced blood burble cloak reddishly drying to the dye of shades iron dust fleeing paths that deepens in its fleshy stretching’s  and in tearing drupelets slashing ways  deepening its slowing movement to the halt of bone screeching remarks pumping and feeding desperation where tense is crumbling to be dispersed in floating tragedy infested  eye missing craters leaving scopes out there bareeeeee and time loosing in space travel raids and cats being black, hiding night escapades of carnival -by Jaro T