Liberty Spikes

Together, we faced

forward, to the future,

lining ourselves up

in ranks to that spectral

drum beating out the word

phantasmagoria, with eclecticism

dialectic running up a rhythm

that only we felt: Satan

strumming across our intestines,

pensively tuning our ribs with

chalky, salicylic fingers.

So we soloed,

wailing through those days

and nights, laughing

when we should have

cried.

-Bearshaman

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