Miscreant

Stephen XT
Nov 1, 2024

--

It used to be a ritual, sugary sweet and spiced
With blood. Pact-sworn demons dancing down dark roads,
Clothed in our offices, lord and lady, duke and duchess leading
Hell brigades, cloaked in autumn’s cavalcade,
Dead leaves and capes and cobwebs,
Vampire eyes, ash-rimmed, sunken set wide, fanged teeth
Alive.
And now it’s a playlist, the chosen October hymns, and the
God-damned dishes and laundry, and you need to take
A shower, and get to bed on time, so you can spend
The weekends remembering, and languish, high on the lack,
Of our former misfit energy and the Fata Morgana, of
Sails, in the sunset,
Black.

© SXT 2024

--

--

Stephen XT
Stephen XT

Written by Stephen XT

I write stuff when something begs to me to write. The goal is to write ten-thousand things before I die. I tend to be morbid, reflective and personal.

No responses yet