Death Merchants

The merchants caustically advertise

The many methods to which you can subscribe

Debts, inherited, transfer too

The disconnect exists, between prey and predator

The predator’s not always the only one hunting

Crosshairs are one-size fits all

The soft palette, breaks upon contact

The rigid frame, cannot budge

Are not inherent constraints, still constraints?

The merchants of death live for the kill

Each asset obtained is another line to their will

Always the hunted, always on the hunt, always hunting

But still we try, but still we’re tried

Talking Aloud So the Assassin commisioned to end my Life Can understand

Assassin I know you’re out there,

Hiding around some darkened corner

Sharpening your blades,

Or perhaps you work differently than the last five,

I supposed they told you, I’m much more dangerous than I appear,

Every word I hear sends shards like whispers through my ears

A Blinding language using verbs as fear

Each shadow lurking patiently

I escape their sinister smiles

All those participles, dangling like a shaft of steel,

Draped in blood, dripping clear,

Puddles all around me now,

Streams flow, consuming territoriality

Proclaiming dominance and walking proud,

For all their glory, those mercenaries arrived unprepared,

To challenge me, you have to obtain part of me,

If you fail to lure my sensations close,

You will hang yourself by the same throat you used,

 To etch your side of the pact; to speak those binding words, I will do,

When the Devil asked you for my life,

And try you will, but just remember five had also tried,

And soon you shall understand, the reason they all die; why I survive,

Is that God will always be on my side

Bottle Rocket

Bottle Rocket

Siphons property

From your intellect,

Is the web, these

Rabid vixens weave,

Dislocate yourself from

From any framework

Foul in construction,

Run, very far from buildings

Such as these

Invest in sensors,

To alarm you when they change

From lover to savage

From confidant to faux friend,

Distrust any, who only states

An aim to please,

Arm yourself at dawn this day,

If not with Gun and Blade,

Bring the bottle rocket and smoke grenades

This is not the cinema,

You can’t simply close your eyes,

And wish the scary parts away

Predator

Chin to the shoulder,

Locks assail the eyes insecurity, lash growing longer,

 Phantoms pressing stronger, a torsos’ quest for purity hindered in spinal insecurity,

A mental shift is taking place, doors will break and secrets bleed, acuity diluted from forge to wake,

Chimeras and the emotionless candor of a paradigms’ quake,

Skin colorless, pores tight to touch, sweating venom

 As procured vision corrupts,

A postulate case of acute asunder,

Desperate prayers spoken in distress,

A fever born from out, flexes within,

Worlds of words, submitting to a plundering plight,

Grasp then fall, clasp then crawl, around the corner

 Rivers of dementias’ beckoning call,

Implied paranoia, injecting gall,

Mind growing colder, will tasting stale

Eyes to the front, Ears in the right,

Vision off centered, audibly censored,

Eyes in reverse, Ears leaning left,

Sight unseen, Decibels in splendor,

Cadence coming from beyond each corner

Footsteps bolder, Breathing faster,

 Knees chest high, piston-like thunder,

 Chin to the shoulder, Chin to the shoulder