Gothic Scene

Beneth gas lamps
black nights skies
to eary sounds
of distant cries

we walk streets
cobbled stones
through darkened alleys'
squalid zones.

In candle light
misery strains
through smudged glass
of dirty pains

from lonely rooms
in dancing light
that calls out
into the night.

A lack of hope
in darkened shame,
black of night
in cold and rain

drips from eaves
to an icicle morning.

Clear and cold
and pointing down
austere spikes
hang down

as rods or bars
in front of pain glass windows.