is smoke of burning hearts the city broke.
Swallows your heel-steps. There's a rasping croak
Obscene batrachian; burn on your wrist -
a thing unseen has touched you. Feel pulsebeat
race then slow down. Alleys are ways to fear,
you're not safe anywhere, but something here
is waiting. There is quicksand at your feet
pulling you down. The mist cloys in your throat
like poison candy. Decisions long since made
pursue you. In the dark a flicking blade
flashes with neon moonlight, and your coat
is suddenly in tatters. The wild hunt
is at your heels, will soon be at your cunt.