In the night they burn.
Fireflies trapped in an amber jar.
Smelling the sand on my skin.
The dust-bowl offerings to a world of plenty.
Wichita eyes follow me.
Bar stamped and ready.
Hovering over something entirely.
Waiting to be consumed.
Where do you go now motel boy?
Burning holes through my skin.
Somersaulting in and turning my blood to milk.
The day fades away, blackening the eyelids of the young.
The eyes always ready.
Waiting for tomorrow.
Havoc and Consequence 
Intriguing Mark.. and I found these thought provoking..
“Where do you go now motel boy?
Burning holes through my skin.”
LikeLike
Thank you, this part was the wantless searching of feelings, through all circumstances. Glad it got the mind a’turning 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
and te search goes on.. and on..
LikeLike
North of the north pole 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
i’m south… beyond the southern cross
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLike