doctor rabbitfoot

broken bottles of vintage wine
that orson wells never drank
shattered sunsets, distorted rainbows
all fading before their time
in a distant past
when dreams were real
and violence
was a fantasy
a man appeared
in long black tails
a magician’s hat
with flowers in his sleeve
the look he gave
froze your soul
leaving you
nowhere to run
nowhere to hide
he grabbed you
with broken fingers
and twisted nails
you were his
without a fight
he ravaged your mind
he destroyed your soul
in his search
for your darkest fears
upon discovery
he exploits them
driving you to your knees
rendering you helpless
beyond self control
without thought
willing to
pledge your soul
to him…

doctor rabbitfoot picks up his bag
wandering along a forgotten trail
leaving you a wasted shell
attempting to explain
the unexplainable