Basil-Collins

We staggered and uncovered the graves
With this savaged blood
Drawing out of the fissures
Or at the center where nothing living grows
And on which ambush comes pulleyed.

Our fingers shook as we punched the wits out of the fresco-crypts
But at a turnout flesh along the sweat...the walls didn't move a tear.....but we did
Were we mug enough to hit ourselves?
Were they with the gloves!!

The circles dance in circus
And the dolls had been ripped a rumble to silence
While our skins are drawn tight across it's cheekbones
As we expected the worse... gnashing the blood that dribbled through the lip linens.

Guilt trickled through our hairlines like a power tussle this time.