The Observant One

Fingertips flit about foreign flame, a wisp of breath

A spark of life, a spark of death

Smoke signals dance around a flickering silhouette

An acrid aroma from a fresh lit cigarette

Slipping shadows scatter from glowing streams of sight

Beckoning forth with a whisper at midnight

The incantation brushes against the skin

Felt like a voice, echoed beneath the wind

The emotionless incandescent moonlight

Provides a blanket of cold, washed out light

A realm void of all but doom within its wake

A feeling pitted deep inside, left rotting to forsake

A distant sound slithers into the mind

A worm burrowing in the blind

Grasping at shattered remains

Speared from splinters of the brain

Reality shrieks, reaching for the soul

Like a locomotive, desperate for her coal

Listen close for the Banshee’s bawl

Deafened out by the Siren’s call