There's Nothing in the Eye

 
Demons grow the flesh of birds as they walk backwards,
necks craned upwards scowling at Earth's colours.

The air will slip its dry tongue
between each bump of your bowing spine
allowing each ribbed vowel that rattles through your teeth
to expose you to be inhaled by the red eyes.
Unless you forget.

If you hear the distant gallop of hooves
the young and the slain should know
they've not been taken, but delivered.

Here, we are holographic, just appearing
in legends that domino from lip to wind.

There, is where life's antagonists are immortal
turning a goose egg into a mountainous Walhalla.

Fear is your only weakness here; a curse from life.
You should know they can't kill you when you're dead,
they can't kill you when you forget.