This was our end. Oh, I knew
we found the oily
sludge in the mean deeps,
the red acid wash of wrack
and ruin rising
amid the broken
belongings, the spoken oaths
of propaganda,
lies, tall tales of rut,
amounting to our demise
in the choking wake
of bright jet strewn doom.
September 23, 2013 9:52 PM
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.