Wednesday, October 31, 2012

That time of year

When elections loom, familiar shapes
become more threatening,
the masks we wear more obvious,
and demons prowl the streets
in search of food for damaged souls;
the mouth of hell yawns wider,
and the roots of all our troubles
come springing to the surface,
reaching out to trip us up.
Familiar landmarks disappear:
fogged in -- or have they left for good?
If we can't see them,
can we assume they're there?
Walk carefully amid the lies;
ignore the beckoning darkness
and superstitious whisperings...

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