gentrified entanglement
a week dismembered,
full of craven gullibility
bags of flesh mouthing
silent words
in the hollow earth
stained red with leaking passion.
as an oil spill tucked neatly
away in the purest parts of the sea,
swelling and gathering speed
to blacken the earth.
angels dance with a cadence of
indeterminate in origin,
lacking in self preservation
a hundred thousand pretty words
wrought of iron,
worn down by the ebb of time,
which drives all
towards infinity.
there are things in this world
which we choose to believe
because the alternative
is all to terrible to abide.