A fight against conscience

Our hope of course
lies
in getting more of the same:
the hit, no surprise
to our eyes gone lame
from a dark dopamise;

forty minutes go by
and lie bind gagged,
my hostage and I
a terrorist flagged
by lights in the sky.

Hide, hide, secure the sin,
waste the hours and cure the din
of conch resounding loud within
til dry acidic eyes sink thin.

Red are the nights
ere the dawn flees east,
blue frightful lights
and I the least
to set my hand right.

For ash crumbling tween
our white errant fingers
falls, clumps of the scene;
a mocker’s lap lingers
for all to be screened.

Hide, hide, secure the sin,
waste the hours and cure the din
of conch resounding loud within
til dry acidic eyes sink thin.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s