In a black hole and being smeared sideways. Pulled left, right, and backward into a dark unwell.
The unknowing of everything i do: the undoing of everything i know. The Helling of Heaven…
How do you pull back? To gain some momentum, an upper-hand in this losing battle.
I’m every Indian the settlers are shooting the heads of. Trying to scalp back I’m
overwhelmed. My babies raped, drawn and quartered before my dying eyes.
I’m crying at this musketball, tearing through my tear-stained cheek and out my reservation.
My loss of fortitude = their new America: an empty wasteland left in their wake.
No green left unturned by the horsehooves of their invasion; my gentle stream run yellow by their
pissings. Lice in my blankets: where do you run when turned to frost in the cold Sun?
Soul quest showed nothing; a blank summer sky. So much land to conquer, yet these
barren fields are dry: I’m choking on the future and the deadly fish left in the river.
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR…..DIVE!!!
Rising again with the mist, falling back down over the land and their exhausted pots and pans.
Laughing at their calamity, a different kind of tear runs down my face: their babies have all drown in
the blood and pain of not enough. Land raped of its plush; giving unconditionally, until conditioned into
desolation: the bastard children of cross-breeding; ravished and gray, suckling an over-dry teat. Sagging
as the teeth break through the flesh of nipple meat, only to draw poison-milk. Blood drips down the chin
into the thirsty soil. Every heart pumping out of control before popping a vessel. Soul released and flying
toward its new destination; scalding the air with its speed on this aimless journey of transformation…..