Eyes of a Scarecrow

by

Once the morning dew invades the canvas of this tragic moment...fear

pushes the hair on the spine to needles. Cannot turn back this night, it's

finished...it's mine...drunken episodes. It's a blur...the canvas paints are

mixing into gray...a nightmarish haze of confused laughter and crazed

screams. Replay it again...the moment progression in delinear fashion...as

if arranged by a dyslexic expressionist of strobe terror. The behavior of

madness...opened past contortions of sanity...the tears within it all.

This story is left for the imagination...the eyes of each and every tale

and action...for even the actor's eyes and words are missing here...

all that's left in the clearing light of dawn is the bloody mess

and the swelling tears of sadness.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at SmokeScreen Distrotion
by: B00yeah Nichols
from: Sydney, NSW, Australia

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