The End Line

—we’re sliced open

like a paper cut

of some presorted

ready printed

return-stub...

that the entire

World itself

would now

envelop—

—in our own

delivery wrought—

to the dump...

of some senseless

office run reeking

with blood from

the other side

of the mouth

that our tacit

seal & stamp

of approval

won—

...these drips of

evidence trail

—on the sidewalk

where footprints

lead to a drop

box of words in

mis-translation

caught...

draining into

eyes and ears

to then be

vomited

from the gut—

we did our Job

...said nothing—

or so we thought

...now we would

slip through that

grated slot—

escape our ghosts

casually sold

into those

country slums

while getting

business done...

we’re drowning

from the channels...

and the trades...

underground

a foreign gargle...

...one we refused

to hear is now

so very loud

and all too clear

to understand

—to fully feel—

conveyed in a

language we

have come to

know as real

that stabs-back

at our very

conscience—

with vivid

spitfire as the

World’s inner

gutters cry out in

their chosen

tongue

#5to7wordsFromaFriend #FreeVerse