Seismic Nought

Horror slinky stolen flesh stamped with style - stencilled… His howls haunt the sky so pink and sedated… We sit in the fountain gardens: the blood’s greyscale and faded I wake up with a body open to a deal - I once had these giant chest pains like white hot steel- It’s half of what they feel… His putty expression {does he see these reels?!} Like the mirror speaks - can the camera bleed? We’re immediately caricatured and butchered by section… Counting faster to the dome bell that recirculates our senses…

Green sun burns through the blind glass… He peers through to the boardroom to witness her resistance pass, Brows raised - reads the clockwork slaughter handout, Then smiling, finds the camera, Winking cheaply - now the weather…

Now the one you kill is no one A dot on a chart The blood runs out like beetles crushed The streets tense and stark - now the one you kill is no one Now the one you kill is no one Our eyes will glaze over Not stop in this utter bombardment of absurdity that we will never let conquer our pneuma… Now the lands you kill have no hand Plain that they’re phytocide prone And our heads will not hesitate to turn from our phones… But the problem is they don’t - When the heart’s in the throat, And the more we see the more we know For those of us who believe in the power of the rearmament of real hope - You have no scope And your fault will be re-shown for longer than you kid yourself not to know… Because the one you kill is known now, Perhaps even more clearly to that empty hole you feel inside, where once did lie the sweet soul of a child…