A Spill.

Blast
The sound of sirens block
each note a tendril on my monocle
Fierce laden extractions of doubt and fire
enveloping the delusional delicacy.
False
eaten hope abandons even the
sweetest of fallacies
As fear trembles at the sound
of itself
An echoing note on my clavicle.
The belt of life around my neck
choking itself out
as eyes roll back
and strike the pins
of hellfire and cascade
light through my jaws.
Minstrels will never know
the sound of my soul
or the shape of my brow
(furrowed as it is)
Nor the ache I feel
when "it's" not there.
I'm calling you out.
Your not the one you
said you were.
But who is?
Living the lie of the sky lit
parks and jaded mercenaries
of old.
Trigger pulled.
You're gone.
As the cell phone signals
disrupt the radio
time and time again.
Prying inside the canals
Anvil and Stirrup sway.
The love everyone writes of
is merely a reaction and disruption
of normal functionality
and deserves its place
among criminals and thieves
Romanesque style, upside down.
As its body collapses on itself.
The Bloody End.