Death by a thousand cuts
Put to sword the prince of cups
Ripples in your amoebic puddle
May never touch the outward moving sides
But paddling yet with every pore
Hoping to never see the impeding shore
His armour rent from inward rust
His weapons out of date
Columns of statistical chemistry
React to the horseman’s sad decline
Track his fall across weathered palms
Where life-lines run in parallel
Here the coconut oil for carnival stalls
A bikini beach for atom souls forgot
Here the diet of food for thought
Leaves silhouettes of everything that I’m not
April 2010
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