Overview

From, ""Soldiers"". Sometime around 10am, pink tanks dropped from above. I was writing a story for the paper, exposing cutting-edge tech weapons and wars waged against the unarmed and the ultraviolet. It was an attempt to break the sound barrier to infiltrate minefields and riots. My memories and breathing have changed. F-16's still quarry the audio fade of derelict soil. I yield to the melodic harps of dying beings submerged within the womb of consciousness at first light. Echoes, frequencies, poverty and your medieval obsession to break what is, long since, broken. From,""Auschwitz I, Oświęcim."" They tore into the cities / invading and occupying homes / staked like territorial wounds / to the mass graves / of our ancestors / limitless access / the flames of power / fueled by delusion / take whatever is left / from the wood pile / and burn it / burn the rest / A dangerous grief / foreshadowed / the ruins / of a shackled war zone / the potential of all that could become / buried beneath / hues of apathy and stone / careful now / with what is found / the weather is about to turn / Those who spoke out / against the crimes / were rumored to be insane / as if insane / was the worst thing to be / loons / some whispered / some whispered it louder than others / so we were never to be believed / We are human beings / people / freely accessed / stalked / to the blackest rooms / of our minds / I remember counting the ridges / on the cellar floor / in and out of consciousness/ mockingbird incantations circling / the barely audible / fire / of my dying mind / Even in my most liberated wastelands / there were never any questions / to refuse./

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