Le Martel

Hard pressed, bone to bone,
underneath this flesh there seams a muscle,
beneath its breath lies the blood,
straight from the heart and pounding.

fastforward

Walking down the line drawn through my hall,
it's bigfoot, he's fuzzy, a blur of shadows,
and I dare say an excess of noise,
why is it that even in the forest we find a clatter?

Cuts and clips, ten seconds or less,
a countdown of our most action packed moments,
now, not even, but the highlights of the highlife,
a flicker in desperation of the void that greets us..

The tape unwinds, trip-stop

Upon reaching our rooms,
when the cathode sweeps dim,
as boredom traps and binds us,
to our lonesome selves/who's at the door?

It's the irony of a man who is unfazed,
those who listen at a scream's hiss,
and watch an apocalyptic flash with a faint blink,
yet are still expected to possess a kind expression.