badlands
by T.M. Gray

Believe in the badlands
where darkness drives a moon-drenched Packard.
Here the stranger drinks his beer alone,
while bootleggers promise phantom spirits.
All the world banters for ecstasy
and we just tear their theories
with our edgy fangs.
A ghost beckons on the East
seeking you with espresso eyes.
Don't go there
but believe.
We give this place a name --
you can hear it groan
in every melancholy expression.
This is our vacant empire.
How does it feel
to be king?


(c) 2000 T. M. Gray, All Rights Reserved

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(c)2000-2004, T. M. Gray. All Rights Reserved.

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