THE HUNTER HUNTED

THE HUNTER HUNTED

Fallen grandeur,
Glory days of the twentieth century,
Abandoned hotel,
Condemned Squalor.

Late nights,
Empty streets,
Sole squatter.
Faeces piss, sweat,
Cigarette on lip,
Shotgun in hand,
Searching the building
Under streaks of moonlight
Listening for the slightest
Creak or groan of wood.

Eyes wild,
Tongue unable to swallow,
Wired heart beating,
Hands steady,
Ready to shoot into every room.

******//***\**********//*********///************\\*********\\************

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s