The Grave

I passed by a field

and saw an open grave.

Surrounded by trees,

an open enclave.

With open arms

it invited me in.

My blood ran cold

and crawled under my skin.

I gulped from my bottle

of old chavy wine.

Trying to drown the fear

that ran down my spine.

Whether it was my mind

or the wine in my veins.

I saw the dead emerge

from pot holes and the drains.

They held me with their rotting hands

with fright i began to weep.

Then they dragged me to that open grave

entrapped forever into the deep.

Now like those fowl creatures i lie and wait

for some innocent soul to pass.

To drag them to the doors of hell

into the grave and under the grass.