The second Thursday '07:
A lawless landscape unfolding, steady at First, but slowing. Crawling to crush.

Those fabric arms devour - uneven,
Engulfing fury, They wrangle and wrap;
As passengers trawl for pearls to muse.

Next, I'm there. A faceless brick-laden
Heathen, absolves wanted sins. My lack
Of sight now a gut-churning punch.

They cry. Each laments as I seeth
And splutter for sustinece. Will cracks;
Strips; Shatters. Breeds detest of the fuss.