And when i'm goddamn ready, i'll remember.
Right as amber rain.
I have to be.
Steeled in my fucking assurances that this was the man that we buried. that his blood boils inside me. his willingness to fight. to fucking die for the chance to prove that we, as a people, once believed there was something better to men than their shrivelled bones and tragic indifferences.
Their pillars of sanctimony.
That haven't changed in a thousand years.
That generation after generation have led the goodness of the spirit into the teeming pyres of shit on which empires are built and crumble into nothing more than a history lesson rewritten again and again until it's forgotten and they can do it all again.
With the same piercing insect grin.
Those perfect teeth.
Worn by every color. every fucking creed. to mask the aged monster that quivers underneath to blind those of us naive enough to listen. to care what fate might fall our tenuous name of god in the endless, restless, loveless fucking sodomy of the machine that even now is growing tall enough to blot the sun from memory.
Whirring omens that hiss to speak.
By the grace of an unwelcome beast.
And, so, to bleed.