weight.
thoughts.
pyramid-like in shape,
giant eyeholes eat heavy ropes,
their tails (and tales) tied to even heavier thoughts...
heads wrapped around appendages,
struck raw from attempting to flail.

...and all of this a mere background spectacle.

black hearts and hand grenades,
flames melting frightened onlookers...
flesh fused into rows of seats.
all such wonderful theatre.

laughing could be heard over the crackling of fire
as the emotional militants make another grand escape.


[the debate on whether or not Che would be proud would carry on for weeks.]

NB @ 11:48 AM

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