splatter of war

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splatter of war


neon angel streaks through the spotlights, angering the deep and causing beautiful upset. clueless as to where the destination is, aiming carelessly at random pinpricks dashing the horizon.

bouncing heads together on contagious ground, the eyes look fast and slowly falter. looping sonic waves through treble notes, stitching it all together with bass chords. playing it out, you'd never know that it was someone's undoing.

the riotous nature of the underbelly quieted down and the mushrooms took root in hallowed ground. children made salads with them and sang songs about them. neon angel watched, then melted into the spray painted concrete.

the mushrooms were turned into masterpieces, and soon they were outlawed. with no where else to run, children grabbed at swords and lashed at the stiff colorless sound, tears of nature seeping down their painted cheeks.

the battlefield's the best art, unfortunately. people become primal and turn into bare colors, piercing at hearts and screaming songs of violence. neon angel closes eyes and prays for the children whose childhoods were robbed by bitter stiff sound.

flicker flicker, gas station angel lighted in neon. lighting candles for the wounded - wicks all burnt to the bottom. neon angel knelt in prayer, switched off and left there.

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