Benevolence
The air’s concerned
murmurings
Turn into explosions
of greens and violets as
Excited radios can
barely keep up
With the panicked
voices.
Black dread creeps up
on the masses
Like an army of
centipede legs
Moving out of order,
confused.
Seconds mean nothing
The meaning of time,
time lost.
The flashing of
teeth, white in the sun
Wrinkles of
experience can’t save us now.
The little boy threw
a tantrum
But the fat man,
benevolent;
Ten thousand degrees
of God
Gone wrong.
No comments:
Post a Comment