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Cyclops With a Trigger Finger.

Run to the underground,
look not behind or around:
find a hole that leads
you deep down.

Hide there.
Await in silence,
senses acute.
This is not a test.

The sky is falling.
You can hear it, feel the explosions
as they impact, break ground,
violent vibrations
reverberating still,

deafening my ears,
numbing my body,
drowning me in and outside
my skin.

And I’m not ready.
I could never be ready,
so I am always on guard.
One eye open, cyclops
with a trigger finger.

To the backseat
with all fears rendered minuscule
in comparison,
the Monster is driving.

Beside him, you are nothing.

Sadness and anger
become lovers.
Violence when tenderness
needs cover.

Come together in an air of need.
To keep our blood flowing,
to secure from spill

others may have to bleed.
Just don’t fuck with me.
I’m just remembering.
I don’t want to,

don’t make
it a need.

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