.
hands twisted in the mud...

Do I have the voice
to tell you with words of lightning...

They came one day unannounced
and without a face or name...

I saw it first in a dream-
but once realizing it was...

It never ended-
blood echoing screams...

My veins bleed through these
stoned hands- sleepless yet...

The world tells us something
different each day...

Less than twelve hours
until the week makes itself...

Blessed Savior,
Your father brought the world into life...

Through the night
I know what will be unleashed...

In her photograph,
she tastes the smoke in between her fingers...

Like a melancholy light
glowing below your window...