this secret on the rocks
has never seemed so evil, uninspired,
another one caught amidst the land of the fire.
Coverage shifts the eye's mind of focus,
never so true as unmarked sand
while the waves of doom crash through and through
and through the raw and pebbled land.
Push him out and parade the streets
with signs of lies, debauchery;
Cronies march alongside, swift,
trucks speeding by,
winds make the rush,
the killer results of the modern technique.
in the clammy cool of pine-tree nights,
The only ones who stay alive
are those in hiding,
we avert eyes.
The man lies down along the earth,
thick of scent and dampened soil.
Battlecries and demons charge
from yards away... he hears them.
Rifles cocked-
Voices raised-
Eyes inflamed-
Fueled rage-
Burying his face into the ground
as the final sense of escapism,
Lungs filling up with the land's dirt
just like what they deserved of him.
