we’re caught out of orbit,
swept up in this
downpour of
d e s t r u c t i o n
(can you taste the chaos)
we are
itchy fingers on a
quick-trigger-hand-grenade,
minds dancing with delight
at the cold, dark danger,
mouths filled with yesterday’s ghosts
—
isn’t it
masterful,
the way madness
befalls the weary
– ashley jane