The shadows sway,
and stand agape,
and hair erect-
upon the nape
of time inside
this whiskey glass-
Descending
into Dragon Pass…

I have a soul
that must be sold-
I’m told it’s worth
the weight in gold,
alas,
I cannot get it back-
from voices on
this hellbound track…

Look in my eyes,
and read the sign-
then you will see
where demons dine,
and taste the spirits
that I drink–
my phantom is
close to the brink…

Turn, loose my
hand and look away,
or in the darkness
you will stay-
the eyeballs roll
away again–
now I lay me
down
in
sin.

Copyright 2016 Ron Walker