After B.P.

Caustic ephemera spill over blotter lips, oracles turn blue in wait of new

believers, belltowers shake leaves attempting updates for digital ears, the

holy spirit is filled with cancer, your blood no longer satisfies, cramped

chorus girls shake out aches to kick drums thumping, keeping steps

ahead quicksand sucks, bleak futures, when death questions you’d better

answer formally

 

chasing wilted flowers weaves maps to exposed bankruptcies, every

guilty action atones father’s negligence, I chew them and wretch his

petrified pew, beetles crawl beneath dermis issuing spiteful divisive

commands, your hollow prophecies will echo into gravel, I’ll pound my

incantations to time, your dust steaming my cauldron, I’ll build a new

dragon who’ll pull down a moon for lighting your extinction and releasing

the dance.

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FREDDY LA FORCE

WRITING, POETRY, DESIGN