Untitled Work 09/08/06

Someone is there watching morning warfare. Pale nimbus, fleeting white. Clouds turn red. Reflections in blood stained waters. Bullets vs. butterflies, go play in traffic Fly away, no need Breathing in this subtle aroma. Rotting carcasses , feeding grotesque frustration. Looking upon two torn and tattered bodies. Like looking in a mirror, these faces, familiar. Bullets vs. butterflies, heres a fork, theres a socket Fly away, no need Jittery, nervous, anxious, even asthmatic. Drawn in, like a moth to the flame. Burnt and brittle, forever scarred, never forgotten. Bullets vs. butterflies Someone is there watching morning warfare. Someone is there, watching, mourning warfare.