The December

Demon eyes writhe
with full colour disunion,
enchanting the vacuoles of
mendicants
to evacuate and swill them
against the black tides
of indominable day,
spent in the allocation of
dead pay
with a distant moon beam.

Why ever to trust anyone,
I shall never know.
Man is a ludicrous beast;
sunning and turning
into the beat of tribal
skins and cracking hammers,
reeling in the night
from lifelorn patrons
of the squalid islands.