"The Gargoyle Hour"

This is a prologue to a collection of my stranger short stories.

She paints in colors cut from shadow
Bright and bitter and brutal bone.
Like Medusa before her mirror
Watching her own face turn to stone.

Old bones carved stones
Eyes wide and bare
Gargoyles are leaping from the rooftops
And dancing in mid-air
Watchers, ill wishers,
our cities are sick and cold.
They crouch
on the gates of graveyards
Grinning at their own joy
For souls lost or sold

Lord of Illusion on his throne of spikes
Deception, conception, mad love strikes.
Grotesque
picturesque
Cracked Kings of Crime
Watching tomorrow burn
Waiting for the Sign

Stone Angels fall from their perches
Raining Brimstone and Blaspheme
Misting no mercy,
Dancing to the screams.
Dead cherubs and children cower
Dont you know?
It's the Gargoyle Hour.