WITHIN THE STREET
entry wounds ...
madness ...
so many breathe
that must be dead;
hands ache
to squeeze,
erase all visage,
delete their space
reflecting violence,
unfocused rage,
no bricks are moved
no chasm made
only pressure,
twisting lines,
and darkness driven
across the heart
days go empty,
bled by fear,
their numbers fail
and then revolt
scrambling the seasons
as to infect
all idle time
with creeping banes
how vast
these enemies,
every passage
a trap awaiting,
each exposure
greets with their blades
so deep in falsehood
inseparable from hate
the myth maintains
of times to come
of fire and blood
and rage unleashed
I see it now
I feel the shift
a tearing steel
that lusts to shred
- Brendan Tripp
06/09/2006
Copyright © 2006 by Brendan Tripp
And you know what's really exciting? I have another one just waiting to get typed up!
