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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
Copyright ©
B. Andrew Kelly
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