Escaping the Morning

On a greased jetbike through the graveyard
Past rocketing headstones upflung
Throttles a darkly malignant Death
Addicted to your rigid horror

Chrome leaking blood red lubrication
Unholy rubber scent of brimstone
Jawbone bursts hellfire leaking grimace
Calcified sin-stained cold bone fingers

Spitting gouts of acceleration
O’er  the grinning dead rolling in graves
Gunning the engine dusk dead to rights
Mad escape from the morn’s horizon

Old enamel clacking the refrain
Of a fearful self preservation
Drowned by hellhound howling of engine,
“Oh, this’ll be the death of myself!”


One response to “Escaping the Morning

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s