serpentine slither

what appeared to be poisonous was merely phosphorus deeply tattooed into the warrior’s skin from an ambush in the land of never-ending wars against imagined foes with a myriad of causes cascading from power and greed what does a Welshmen have to do in bloody Afghanistan he used to have a lilt but now the speed impediment was carved deep into the persona of horror shame and guilt the snake had promised paradise not a distorted Adam’s apple the stars had been bright connected by nebula and a waning moon what an omen for the self-righteous soldier misguided of course by fame glory and that now elusive war veteran’s pension dole money merely covered the cost of the shack under the bridge he attempted to count his blessings tried gratitude and the booze which gave him some solace because blackouts were better than bombs and the stink of his urine improved no end when vodka battled with vomit but the protagonist never rose above the faceless evil of legalised slaughter