Tristan Robert Lange
the agony
the night is dark and still
like the calm before atomic aggression
where thoughts travel in whispers
never meant to reach knowing minds
yet one such mind is aware
that a betrayal for the ages
will be its dark undoing
this is the blood
hematidrosic rubies of ragged royalty
where flies infest and fester
awaiting death’s oven to bake bread
this is the body
shaking in singuineous shudders
at the sound of footsteps
the sound of clinking steel
metal chains chinking
my time has come
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