Stains

No purpose on the avenue  
Random crazies on the march  
Sly glances to the left and right  
Looking for some kind of Hell  

Inclined to going for the flesh  
Chunks scattered on a dead end street  
A taste developed for the heart  
They settle down to eat, and dream  
 
All the colors of the night  
Blend to hide the growing fear  
One loner with a switchblade knife  
Approaches with a razor smile  
 
Then fresh blood on the avenue  
Pooling despite the rains  
And I splash like an insane child  
Dismissive of the scattered stains.