Chiroptera

I
By blacklight they flit
through darkness splotched with violet;
electirc veins the skeletons of their wings,
webbed with pitch and rubber.

II
They gnaw the lightbulb filaments
and the dreamcatcher to shreds.

III
Swirling into a cloud
of white vapor and moonshine
pierced by crystalline drops
of glass and snow and ether,
they shriek unholy hymns
into the night.

IV
A wasteland.
Vast expanse of blue earth.
Under a tin-can moon
shadows dance around a bonfire,
weaving and reeling as its flames
curl into dragons that seethe and fade
with a hiss into smoke wisps.
A chariot of umbrella frames
rattles down through the fire
and explodes into copper sparks.
Beating of wings;
they fly on.

V
A grand ballroom.
Swirls of gilded opulence.
She clutches his bloody eyes
In her hand as he blindly twirls her
over the marble floor at her command,
grasping for them and every time
losing a finger. She laughs and
the chandelier echoes her.
Candlesticks glide across the ceiling
To the rhythm of a black waltz.
Beating of wings;
they fly on.

VI
A deserted asylum.
Lurid fluorescent corridors.
Wind up dentures chatter into a phone
on the reception desk. Doors
flap open and shut to the cough
of a congested radio. Wheels grind
over vomit-green vinyl tiling
with a clatter of metal; walls tremble.
Moans issue from the abyss
past the exit sign. Blackout.
Beating of wings
into oblivion—

VII
White light. Halogen.
They vanish.

Inspired by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's perfume blend of the same name.