is solace a hopeless crusade
the grandeur of a raping plague
a portrait that is best forgotten
bed of fire for the dying orphans
is there a bridge for the endless mote?
a river for the arid throat?
a sun for the winter flower?
a knight in the weeping hour?
the poison sails on ships with pain my veins have never known
my eyes have seen the glory of the antidote
the curse has left its birthplace
the idol that birthed betrayal
where eulogies have littered the trail
a song that is sung with a forked tongue
blackballed by the angels
and we're dropping like flies
spraying death in every direction
this infection's a torrential tide