Down the Alley

every once in a while
I walk down that alley
where walls grow in
to touch each other,
where shadows lurk
without a form,
where there's no space
to walk for two;
yes, there are moonbeams
and foggy streetlights
down the block,
but here in the alley
there's only inky black
stitched into every crack
on the cold stone walls;
yes, every once in a while
I walk down that alley
where my body grows eyes,
and prickly spines
of wicked laughter
choke a heart
that bleeds red wine;
where the eerie claws
of deathly silence
dig into the hollows
as I grope,
and a heavy cloak
upon the chest
is where
a raucous breath is caught;
yes, there's a fire in that alley
that's been seething there for long,
there's hatred and there's kindness,
and lost souls waiting to be found;
there's sadness and misery,
and poverty of thoughts,
where shadows laugh together,
where there's adventure to go around;
so if some day you miss me,
you'll know just where to look,
I'll be there down in that alley,
where you don't really want to look.