Shadows (or) Things You Wouldn't Hump in the Night.
Gathered beneath the eaves until night inks a gloaming reprieve from their candela cast griefs.
With dusk diffusing sunlit bars-instant presence it’s no present-no need for cars with soul as black as the hole from whence it stole.
An unrelenting scene to last the night, but moonshine smite and the burning fright of orange pools dripped by sentinels tall and slight.
DON’T PEEP into the midnight blue, they will seep in-out your eyes to the dearest things in your keep, unwashed encroachers e’en though you weep.
Caught out they cringe, features screwed, hoping sympathy will impinge and temper your chagrin
-because foulest grin does not endear but announces every oily ounce of sin stained from centuries of djinn and show them thin of all that human nature doth underpin.