Blood Moon

I look up to the nighttime sky

And see the harvest moon,

That large and haunting galleon

That chants an ancient tune

Of predatory danger

And dark, archaic rune

-

It calls to those among us

Whose strange souls bear its mark

A warped, twisted perspective

As cold as it is dark

And eyes that see the human race

In shades of grey so stark

-

It calls to waiting predators

With silver, sharpened blade

And draws them out into the night

And its concealing shade

So they may find their victims quick

And hear their heartbeats fade

-

I hear its song; it calls to me

From where the shadows lay

And, drawn as I am to it,

I hear it clearly say

"Oh, dark and darling Dexter, do

Come out tonight and play…"