In The Crackle Of Dreams
the swirl of the sore heart
guns be fired everywhere
let it never be anyone here
there is not, or me, children
after a street scene, a battle
that didn't end all battles
there is not, shit on a wall
a future happening, or tyres
they're burning like leaves
or the personal bullets, I run
the shells ripped up like the sun
the night I was losing my mind
god, we go anywhere we can.
© 2017 Rob Schackne
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