Maybe it wasn’t supposed to make any sense, how you gassed me in the chamber with the arcrid incense.
How I stole for you what any sane man would leave, pushing my body, no sleep for a week, beyond what could be believed.
When the interrogations began how you flighted away, suddenly the all knowingness had not a lot to say.
I flew the heavens for you touching a void only gods know, and my blood stained that windshield in little winding flows.
Have my scars, have my body, even take my mind. But know that till the end of days my soul remains mine, and I hate to disappoint you to some facts you cannot bind.
Make me jump, make me fear, whisper death into my ear. But let me be clear … The bullet in your breach is just one, its a mutual stand off, in a setting sun.
D Feb 2017