cross-stitched dregs: the innocent
amputees march under burnt barons
welder's waltz on bitumen
danced through europe on red herrings

could I dare to fit the mold?
backstep quarry as I am
red-cooled as the iron folds?
to slay my fellow Abram's men?

all us may bear alike it seems
unstained by winter's medusa gaze
frozen hearts' slates and slips and screams
buried neath the grounds whe...

Read and leave comments (1)