8fugitive
08.28.05
tribal rhythms fuel bones & dice; they rattle, we scatter, black skin against midnight dark. relentless, relentless, we weave our fleeting tales by tastes of moonlight. police spun of hatred, blazing charcoal eyes transform into shining beacons: they deceive & we run ever faster. our stark, gaunt figures prick the silence with jutting, white-haloed edges. oh lord almighty, deliver us from evil and save our wretched souls. they are upon us: suspended, towering heathen vultures. we cower below their talons, terror-stricken victims of poverty. our emaciated voices puncture the thick, night air; it hangs like a curtain, crimson-steeped with innocent life & suffocating in anguish. it is all over now. we are the lost, we are forsaken. bloodstained hands scream forgiveness, watery eyes beg their mercy. mother earth weeps and looks away, barren, soiled – the bones fall silently to the ground. we are dead to her.