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Description
The streetlights on Hyde Street flicker out.

There is a humming in the air,
the subtle vibration of a guitar string
speaking of hands clasped over ears
and cracked mirrors.
Menacing starlight glowers down
as I shiver to my knees.
Still the silence shakes persistently,
worming its way behind my eyelids
as fireworks of perforated fear.
Shards of vision separate
as I blink once, twice,
and stand to find myself
alone.
There is a ring of ruin
around my shaking knees
and I remember the satisfying crunch
of flesh and bone
under my sadistic fist.
Vermilion screams
still shudder
in the scraping of my teeth.
Back on my knees I wrestle with
these memories that cannot be
my own.
The glimmer of a hidden ring
ensnares my gaze from underneath the ashes
near my frostbite-ridden fingers.
Surely my rigor mortis fists could not have
torn it from a living hand.
I stagger to escape
the splintered picture frames of guilt,
my choked breath harmonizing with the
punctured pillows
twisted, torn umbrellas
and smoldering soot
but with black-cat grace
my mind slips into embers
and once again, the line blurs between Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde.

Description
The streetlights on Hyde Street flicker out.

There is a humming in the air,
the subtle vibration of a guitar string
speaking of hands clasped over ears
and cracked mirrors.
Menacing starlight glowers down
as I shiver to my knees.
Still the silence shakes persistently,
worming its way behind my eyelids
as fireworks of perforated fear.
Shards of vision separate
as I blink once, twice,
and stand to find myself
alone.
There is a ring of ruin
around my shaking knees
and I remember the satisfying crunch
of flesh and bone
under my sadistic fist.
Vermilion screams
still shudder
in the scraping of my teeth.
Back on my knees I wrestle with
these memories that cannot be
my own.
The glimmer of a hidden ring
ensnares my gaze from underneath the ashes
near my frostbite-ridden fingers.
Surely my rigor mortis fists could not have
torn it from a living hand.
I stagger to escape
the splintered picture frames of guilt,
my choked breath harmonizing with the
punctured pillows
twisted, torn umbrellas
and smoldering soot
but with black-cat grace
my mind slips into embers
and once again, the line blurs between Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde.