Travelling in shadow


with message ready


to unleash


the chaos of hell: a battlefield.

Every word explosive,

all sides tremble.


Man, you wouldn’t believe it,


we jumped off, super tourist,

(staying seated naturally)

with a switch to


voices of




How friendly.


With noise intimate,

A hissing song

a tremble

of text.



A bloody snap of paper

(Attention!  Postcard!)

As butcher bird appears



With something

much more personal.

“Contact” –


licked clean, perfect


by the blast.

A pause.


Execution perfect


in the high altitude of killing


only the “wish you were here” missing.

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