Final Act

Forward toward the heavy roller.

Not of winning nature; kind.

I am the pin and you the bowler.

Head circle whirling; noggin fried.

Tear feels overwhelming grasp

Adding time to my sand clock.

Though this was a simple task

To drag my walkers to the fill dock.

Filling hear holes with your scream song

Drowning sound out; mine with yours.

I speed hop to you before long.

Snap crackle; fragments on your floors.

Mini lakes of Crimson pain proof

Gather here and there for now.

Car packers defy gravity aloof

And down a sand hump the box car bows.