Blue Windows

Blue windows,
Plaguing those numerous stately structures,
That, apartments, are called,
In this cold city.
Blue windows,
Contrast to the red darkness outside,
Which is the morgue, and which
The shrine, you wonder.

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Every little window speaks a tale.
Felonies severe, nipped at wrong nodes.
Every blue orifice mouths
Tales of the terrible, of annihilated abodes.

Sapphire sparks of ruin, of no-remorse.
On a velvet-black reality
Lies galore, Despair soars,
The faces wallow in subverted pity.

One. Homicide. Splattered limbs, and
Entrails line walls and carpets.
Nothing taken away, often, or broken into,
Only trust capsizes, suffers silent death.

Then, assault. Of a senior or a minor.
Laws forbid, but syrupy, ambrosial,
The apples are, when taboo charms bind,
Eternal truth- still shocks, coarseness to recall.

Greed, so much. Frauds too many.
Treachery, lies, farce, deceit.
Loyalty reigns in figments, unreal.
Crushed beyond distinction, in a jungle concrete.
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So much to worry about,
So little to love.
So much to cover up for,
Nothing to rise above.

Every blue window.
Every one of those.
Has a tale to narrate.
Has a chapter to close.
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Blue windows,
Plaguing those numerous stately structures,
That, apartments, are called,
In this cold city.
Blue windows,
Contrast to the red darkness outside,
Which is the morgue, and which
The shrine, you wonder.