November 11

death shares resemblances
to a November night sky
the wide eye of the moon
a coccoon of strife
canine of sorts
coarse textured skin
crawling on all fours
fluid squeezed from all pours
bathing in blue and red
led from cop cars
no heart left for breath
so starved that I barf
it's like an empty glass house
trying to think about
how upside down
and under the clouds I am
would I were beside her
like an engine driver
instead of a lonely vampire
arrested by crime fighters