The grinding humm of diesel generators fill the smoggy night.
The sky cries acid and breathes sut.
Air is uncomfortably close; sitting on your chest and scraping your throat.
Animals die in unison falling on burnt soil bereavement of life is inevitable.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
At a war with myself.
The trenches are dug deep, like scars on flesh
they distinguish me.
Bullets tear through me moment by moment trying to pierce the thick walls of fantasy.
Onlookers oblivious of the treachery and treason so skillfully hid within the casket.
Death fills until it bursts.
Fills until the war is won.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC