Rygel on Halloween Friday

Airs of crazy lights tiptoed,

Another season of hopes and dreams,

A yellow light for the cheers;

And this pale blue dim for Halloween.

—and this is Halloween.

 

In this town he calls home,

Serene injustice blames his soul

Never been a picture-perfect sight

—A scream in the dead of night.

 

The dark smiles on the moonlit night,

And clowns a torn away face,

Where the vague rises to cheer

And ignore the kneel marks on the pews.

 

Blades of clouds swathe the cascades,

A façade of blurriness fuzzes innocence.

On his lips ran the life of a cigarette,

Too lazy to stand, just passing the day.

—this is Halloween.

 

He longs for his goddess,

The one who holds his world.

In this moment where people dead-mourn,

He wicks love to bloom.

—this is Halloween.

 

This day might begin his last,

For he’ll leave the crossroad of his life,

Only for her, if he’s not too late

And only for her this Halloween.

—and this is Halloween.

 

Yet fate was dull, too dull to give in

Never to have them an exchange of words

Only his unfelt glance at her,

And her cold trod on mute gravel.

—this is Halloween.

 

 

His only way is a miracle;

A change before this Halloween,

Made to echo in his amber lips

And a choke of his carbon breath.