Rp Verlaine

Red Skies  

Endless patience 
of a vulture 
in the desert 
without eyes  
for mercy. 

Following me,  
he swoops down 
to whisper to me 
crazy fortunes 
and peyote  
truths. 

Death comes 
when your path 
is lost or denied 
or your car 
in the desert 
gives up all ghosts. 

You walk 
across nothing 
but endless sand 
sweating 
with an empty  
gas can. 

Various Hells 
panting reddish skies 
its flames 
lick your face,  
heat ticking 
stolen time left 
with your number plain… 

And the vulture 
waiting to sing 
to your 
last breath.