It Is Here

Eight o'clock, the show began again.
Rocking incarnations to the end
of their instinctual ignorance.
The sleek black mare ran through the iron fence.
While demons held them in a displaced trance.
Electrified, the images computed.
Leading them past all the unknown edges.
Where leaders froze within their tracks,
learning that they never could turn back.
Forward marched the men of war.
Their lovers slaughtered at the door.
Pre-made constructions turned into destruction.
Plowed fields growing living gore.
They had been bored and asked for more.
Be careful what you ask for.
It is here...

? Michaelette ?

4/14/2006
Copyright© 2006 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .