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Aug 2015
No!
No matter the hour, from windows night is smoky lilac.
Every bright spot in the distance a pair of eyes menacing.

They approach innocently enough as if fireflies waltzing. When close, eyes again,  nefarious seeping from shadow, Chucks "murdered out" steel hearts black as death, no, no, I mean black as evil. They cross from one side of an alley to the other silent like dreaming, now into backyard of a house that in the dark appears like a hunch shoulder minion overseeing...
Down the throat of the gangway,
At the mouth of gangway
They appear, hands raising, with cold shiny institutions, take aim, but above barrels opening. Hangs a sign like over a door that reads," leave all hope and dreams behind". I imagine inside this gun mindless, heartless, hopeless, locked behind bars, are children. I know they are there, bullets at the ready, then screaming and thunderous from barrel ablaze, now cooling and destroyed in the street, sea is pooling, rivulets of blood running like a river and then the smoke from the gun's barrel raising dancing fading .
I wrote this because I'm tired.
Written by
Bratt M Jones  St. Louis, mo.
(St. Louis, mo.)   
477
   Julie Antonic and Lior Gavra
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