6/30

Across the masses lies a look of terror

It has fallen asleep inside of their bones

When they crack their knuckles it awakens.

Reminds them of the death they shall taste.

Princess, Peach, and schemes.

An orphan plays his accordion like a disease.

she times her steps in twos and threes never stepping on the cracks.

The car passes by on the west end of town to distract the young officer

He sees money.

They steal the money.

A bell rings out in the open air like a bullet cut through the forehead of our leader.

Mr. President is down.

He's bleeding cotton candy clouds of ideas that will never go settled.

Dreamers dream nightmares of watching their creations burn in the fires like books in the Holocaust.

Moral equivalence, I think not.

My hands have been frozen to my side for 11 minutes now.

The Executive is still dead.

Hope. Yes we can.