Friday, October 31, 2008

Sack of Skin

Into the dusk
The crawling things come
Chewing upon the tiny hairs
That cover an imperfect skin
Burrowing beneath the folical
To feast upon
The blood and marrow therein
The victims scream they do
In their own comical way
Until, the last,
The eyes are sucked out
And the breathing brain
Is drawn clean away.