Pull these strings so they unravel.
What is here cannot start to gather.
One and two make seven in the deep.
Climb this mountain or you’ll become weak.
With factors beyond what you can see.
Breathe fresh moments into me.
As stars dance and angels cry.
Patricide isn’t meant to arrive.
From bones set into amber flesh.
Whispers call for every death.
Unification across these plains of green.
I am left wondering what this all means.
While fog descends like a stone.
Pierce this veil and vent.
Atmosphere won’t save us now.
Bow your heads and close your eyes.
Every moment is filled with lies.
Upon these hooks hang all guilt.
Within all chests there is silt.
Closing up airways that once flowed free.
Barter from above this dying maple tree.
While hands of power wring out blood.
Characterising damned as misunderstood.
A larger farce could not be cooked.
Yet it will forever be overlooked.
By forces not from whence they belong.
Take a moment for them to move along.
Separate and subdue what came before.
Wrench out these steps you tread.
Dissect that which you cannot comprehend.
Vicious scent birthed as if its new.
Parse these fragments right in front of two.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 