Face down in the mire, head weighs three tons.
Ants marching, he longs to be among their
shimmering ebony ranks.
No morality, no war of will.
Only repetition, only eye and jowl, red and black,
simplistic nature.
Love lacking, spiritless life, bearer of the stone
always East of Eden.
Outcast.
Cyst of society,
unknown.
City walls crumbling, tears crushing their noble courts.
Ten thousand limbs pressing new earth, as the innocent scream at the sun.
Beautiful this unseen inside,
the coursing lifeblood below sand skin.
Steady chaos, as drones rise about carnage,
unscathed on whipping wings.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
Face down in the mire, head weighs three tons.
Ants marching, he longs to be among their
shimmering ebony ranks.
No morality, no war of will.
Only repetition, only eye and jowl, red and black,
simplistic nature.
Love lacking, spiritless life, bearer of the stone
always East of Eden.
Outcast.
Cyst of society,
unknown.
City walls crumbling, tears crushing their noble courts.
Ten thousand limbs pressing new earth, as the innocent scream at the sun.
Beautiful this unseen inside,
the coursing lifeblood below sand skin.
Steady chaos, as drones rise about carnage,
unscathed on whipping wings.
This is for all the outcasts and also anyone who ever kicked over an ant pile as a kid just to see what was going on in there.
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