Looming

Why now? "Don't look through the ancient window,"

"You seek to march, but follow orders- hold!"

I fall back, holding my position, black crow-

Furrowing malice through my mind, snow- cold.



Head down, trench deep fanatic death wonder,

Crossing crimson lines, fate unwinds, touch- spark,

Breath curdles in my ear like old thunder,

Sleep paralysis, fraught small child at heart.



The dark smeared scorn feeds on my sun drenched form.