The Emptiness Habitual

Hissing dripping water sounds
resound around this hollow town
where rain is falling constantly
through dark gutters and along the eaves
what dull and claustrophobic lives
like insects scurrying about a hive
streetlamps reveal their agonized eyes
we'll all feel nothing after we die




we would hunt a wizard, a warlock
a witch or a hag in a hut
a farmer or a longshoreman
whoever our blades can cut
we had no purpose for so long
(perhaps even a week!)
but now we're next to whom we belong
and in her shadow we will creep




Listing limping we've been shot
a broadside hit our weakest spot
we've no idea how much time we've got
we've been ages at sea on our dreadnought
avoiding all ports — this ship is hot
but now we need a safe dry dock
or at least a shoreline cum parking lot




This weather is very unseasonable
it's making many go mad
to be stuck inside in midwinter
why that's just like every previous one we've had
but to be paralyzed by the summer heat
the blazing orb that lurks above
why that just stinks of rotting meat
and it's no time for love




a mottephobic autumn eve
millers bang inside
paper lanterns strung below
slick rooftops where we hide
the rain it pours down endlessly
we barely notice anymore
we're here to hunt our only purpose
it's only murder we're used for



speaking of witches and monsters and such
we took her daughter and left in a rush
she will pursue us all the way back to camp
we'll smash up her egg as she's choked in the damp
make her an omelet and serve it for lunch
here, scaly sand witch: Name her then munch.