sleeves rolled around rigid wrists

clenched teeth writhing twisting

needles plunge backroom grunge

gargoyle fists firmly set amid waste

waiting for the main lines whispered

backstage aside alabaster sentinels

blinding icy stains collapsing veins

mined for all time in a lost bloodline

and thus we arrive

complicit complex

redacted wrecked

barely alive and yet

it’s only the first reel

and they’ve scarcely

even fixed their cold

bayonets as we fret

over what is next in

the art of the ordeal

while we stop and steel

ourselves for act two

there was that time remember

when we were called to shine

the most radiant versions of

ourselves like we trained for

and aspired to be all those

days when things seemed

like they would go on forever

before we learned they would

not as we fought back in love

with a power beyond ambition

silent screams

shattering

stoic scenes

shuttering

sliding screens

spattering

sacrificial sheens

scattering

slippery streams

sputtering

sublimated schemes

and it’s only Sunday

laughter erupting
amidst slaughter
relentless madness
desperate incarnate
unholy alliance
swiping right
surging onslaughts
specious offers
golden coffins
austere afterthoughts
dispossessed
they wander
lost in fondness
for the rapture

—

NOTE: just some free form flow from above the bluer skies (and below), always the same sort of vibe (I know), but at least it reminds us that we’re still alive (yo!) {all images from Pixabay}