Jitter Issue #2
Unseen Hands
There was a fearful uneasiness as I dozed offIn a garden in waves of tentacles feedingThat erupted in pulsating petalsThrusting in a strange place growing quieter andquieterDevastating and fading away until at lastI could hardly hear the frightening footstepsOn a breathless rooftop of a creatureFormed out of all that is dementedHis bony talons reeked of desecrated graveyardsWhere unearthed split open skullsWhose fingerprints had becomeThe ocean's crashing wavesWhispered hoarsely like wounds still gushingAbout what brought about their unnatural fallsSometimes to Heaven and sometimes notAnd some still on the Earth do pause and stallWhile I stood transfixed as the orchestral rhythmsOf frostbite climbed up my spineA morose growl reminded me as if it needed toThat we all go a little mad sometimesEspecially when visited by collages of alcoholicstuporsBeneath the bloody starlight that unlocks the doorBehind which still beating hearts get eaten byearthwormsWhile every raven croaks never more.
Ken L. Jones