You & me
     are entwined,
       a vine wrapped
    around your
rib; my spine,
your death
   does not sever it,
       I feel the pull
          at night in my
       bed where I
hang off your
every word,
    so much I have
      learnt to dread
        the cursed
   dawn; the way
it silences your
tongue, but this
   light is not for
       long, I wait
          out the day
     to hear your
twilight song

In America, nichts neues. Death stalks street corners
like a lurking cassowary. Blood the National Color.
Random acts of madness practiced from ambush.
General lack of civility. Shout each other down.
The Other is out there being otherwise. Fear.
Arm yourselves! Disarm yourselves! Dead anyway.
Impenetrable, crystalline, indestructible ignorance.
Nothing to be done but hold on by sitting tight
until the next blasts of rage rend the night.

   ~mce