Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2016
She ran with me toward the evening contained in one sapphire arena. Coliseum of death’s clamor! Instrument of dark war-cry mechanics…

Sudden panic among the gods allows certain neutral angels to fly over the spectators, landing on moisture-thoughts while clenching blue pistols.

“they’re only water-guns but what a flood we could have!” said one angel to another. They’ve been temporarily employed to keep close watch over the public’s fate.
Matthew Goff
Written by
Matthew Goff
176
   Keith Wilson and SassyJ
Please log in to view and add comments on poems