spirit

the smell of morning.
large as thunder in the sky.
captured in a cloud.

the claws sink deeper.
sucking more of our blood.
damn money vampires.

i know of nothing
that can bring peace to men’s hearts,
but me, smiled death.

must a poem rhyme?
to stand upon shores of time.
overcome the grime.

the river bleeds wet.
spilling tears over banks.
the salt baked desert.

in the dimming day
my life closes behind me.
what will morning show?