to/for Euripides
the bends fog into the sulking black star you burnt as a holocaust. it was a nice dream crafted out bullet proof polystyrene wishes sulking out of a specter's spirit. wrapped in its own sweet capacity to debase the soggy spirits which soak in the snake who swallows his tail.
today's hero is tomorrows victim, bang bang. the figurehead watches the hallelujah drool out of corner of the liberators mouth, like a fairy tale in far off time dissolving into the golden mean which pushes itself into a karmic bubble.
hell's ditch is a fast car with no driver racing beyond the boundaries of its relative horizon.
Better she bit straight through
my lips then swear
with an unpledged heart
i am a servant of battle, love, and light
with a catspaw's chance
at a purity that survives its own arrogance
and races beyond the boundaries of its own foresight
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