run run from this fright
run run into the night.
fast fast as the gingerbread can
fast fast for silence slays when still.
God’s eyes in the hills
are sworn into secrecy by the trees
and finds those who flee.
please! PLEASE!
he pleads
as the dagger of death swipes across his throat
and splatters blood into the chipmunks hole
the leafy buds on the trees
drip red on to the homes
of the baleful bees
Down one falls with a face of horror
arms out stretched to a lord no closer.
An angles cold shoulder turns on a soul
that can burn and sit in an urn.
nothing yet changes
and nothing is yet known
of the blood
that is sprayed at a twenty past two
until the next day comes
when the gray body is found
by a runner stomach is undone
his life is changed
from the abhorrence
which could not be
un-seen, un-lived, un-viewed.
the breath of death
wretches his lungs
as he heaves up chunks
right at his nike feet
the vile newly meets
the moss green stones.
two ticks away
from the chipmunks hole
right below the baleful bees home
among the buds
crusted with blood.
