numbers

pen these numbers onto my wrist,
they etched them there, here's to eternal bliss.
red marks of remembrance, forfeit
this life time. thats it.

onto a stone, you carve my name.
here the chisel sparks alone,
frighten the night, alls the same.
but all you've got are the bones.

i remember then, those days, they stay
with your forever, like these letters.
banish the pain, the thought. just too late.
a feverent animosity, just bitters
any taste.

during those days i thought,
i'd never live to see another face.
now i see the life they've bought
torture every day, torment laced.

i see your face, out here, the cold weather.
i wish i hadn't ever.
the pain i gush you'd never understand.
now it's time for you make a stand.

it's all in these numbers on my wrist.
so cold, so old, so bold, so bliss.
the gases and hunger and work,
my childhood missed.
starved to the bone, locked away, like a beast
haunting this forest, no more peace.
so will you run and leave me and
just these numbers on my wrist?

Third Draft

March of the Grey Wolves

Silent eyes leer,
watch and wait.
The cold dark night spurns,
only horrid haste.
Through this darkness, the mist, this face,
into this wood, an unholy race.
Fearless, every step it takes,
Red eyes peering,
through the woods, much deeper,
luring,
the mist ensorcelles
and foot steps patter
Upon
The forest floor.

Hunger binds its heart,
this seeking silent hunter.
It moves ever
Intelligently, deceptively, so cunningly.
What poor creature, is it preying?
You can almost hear the poor thing
Praying.
Tracking its sweet scent
Under shadow of deep moonlight.
Creaking branches and snapping twigs,
Fear fraught the disturbed air.

Oh, how the mists froths
And shimmers sneakily silent.
Hiding. playing. watching. praying.
They are moving.

The quarry found!
Her eyes tear stained,
like Cassandra's distant cries.
Vainly heard.
Tonight she'll die.
Her prophecy complete, unresounding
through madness.
A brother to the right, a sister
on the left and

The jaws snap,
Vicious teeth shine silver
Thirsting through the pale moon night.
Quiver.
Blood rush, a grey and silver flash.
Jaws closed shut,
Through the sinews, so sweet.
The life vein that now bleeds,
paints the white forest floor,
A pretty red carpet.

A mad howl erupts and
shrills through the night.
Every creature eyes the dark.
Beware,
The march is on.