they’re coming for heads
and they”ll stop
at nothing
giant plumes engulf the creatures
we’ve already compromised
sinking chrome and plastic moans escape from
the recently paralyzed

somebody’s got a hold

there’s silence ahead
plugging holes with greedy life vests
picking spots with soiled pies to treat us
ripping tar across the sky
puncture wounds and darkened glue
erase our
delicate vital signs

somebody’s got a hold

of your mind.