a ghost's rhythm

floating above in the still, dark night

a glowing rhythm of dissonance in the sound of this evening, winter breeze

creeping through cracks like lifeless breaths 

swaying, softly with a deadpan longing which is kept secret behind a veneer masking evil

frothing with scorn for one's soul

vague, illusive and mysterious temptation causes an impulsive urge to bloom 

leaving just enough, just out of reach, to slowly crawl you closer to this death

surrounding the room with a constricting conscious

submerged in a stinging, frigid, blackness 

the draw of this blackened night, like blood into a syringe - slow, deliberate, rhythmic and leaving