Bats of Twilight

Bats of Twilight

I can't remember when the clouds- oh, they stole

the thunder lightening, red lipstick dancing on

the pavement under the yellow moon.  

BUT bats never had it so good when they ripped their sight

from their very own eyes, tore it from their very own eyes
and sped down the cave spreading

their rapid fear everywhere, reaching for the air

under the yellow moon.

But something is happening too late- a knife appears out of the
corner of he hills, and the bats

scatter, the moon shrivels, and the thunder is swallowed.
 I open my eyes, and the bats bounce off

the walls.  Why?  Why can't I see?  My eyes are blood shot they say,
blood shot and yellow.

They say it's from the drinking, from the drugs, but I say it's from that land, under the moon, with

the bats, and the tree, growing crooked, and twisted.  
With ants, marching up and down, trying to

supply this world with a happy ending, a happy ending,
a happy twisted branch- thorns reaching,

trying to rip apart the blood red roses.