-killing horses.

my black nails (once innocent)
used to stroke
finger greased keys
waiting longer then when
wished upon a star
for the witchcraft to pour
thickly outward
and splay out across my
companions naive lips
as they let words drip between their
glassy eyes of darkest chocolate
and plait black hair
with knowledge that will
hardly dent a skull
so set on tradition and 'I know's
oh, but now the understanding
has been lost as well
in the tangles of heartstrings
and e-mails.