Murder in Time

My stomach grows weary,
empty and striving—
my soul becomes dreary,
limp tree and diving.

My thoughts a blaze amongst bush and earth,
a faint tale twinkles upon the star’s light dearth.
Fist crinkly with frost,
cold shiver in their gruff.
My breath fades where memories lay
and this night becomes the dawn
thicken with sorrow.

There beneath the spider,
the veins, and murder
is where time creeps like a plague
twisting in the predator’s teeth.

And there she stands,
in a breeze that beckons
from dews of tears
and lies of sneers.

Waiting,
patience in her thicken hair,
Waiting,
tremble in her pasty knees,
Waiting,
devastation in her slanted hands.