A Strange Night by Ian Lewis Copestick

Punk Noir Magazine

 A Strange Night


It’s a strange, strange night,
with a really weird feel to it.
The orange streetlights
hardly penetrate the thick,
dense fog.
It’s the kind of night that
makes you think of horror
films, of slashers, of crazy
monomaniacal monsters,
who only want to kill.
Cheery thoughts, then as I
walk home from the shops.
I light a cigarette, and crack
open a can. Sometimes my
imagination can run away
with itself, and it’s best to
try to ignore it, or pour it
into a piece of fiction.
I will try that when I get back.
For now, I stick to the lighted
parts of the path, and start to
walk just a bit quicker