the boy would look at us
see nothing but phantoms
blips in the radar
of his imagination
haunting about him
immaterial, and impossible
to touch.
when he began to fear us
we began to fear him.
we sensed his eyes
did not see us as human.
flesh at this level of fabrication seeks to rip itself from its spirit. a creation that damns its maker. a confession made behind the eyes as the barrell of a gun. a man, a judge, who could not see other men but only the fear of their judgment.
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