Work Text:
A gun’s blaze in the sun’s haze,
a train heist no one knew had been staged
a bike and a child hit the ground in succession,
his knee crumples down under gravity’s oppression
blood pours out weakly onto a floor of sand and a man stares silently at what had not been planned
the "perfect crime" of hidden success and the boy on the bike that made that digress.
Of acids and barrels and punches and votes,
of a corpse not given enough time to bloat
a man stares in the desert and drought at a spider in glass that tries to crawl its way out.
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Guns again blaze in a red sun’s haze,
the bodies of cops under a gang’s sharp gaze
cries of bereavement and shrieks of loss, take away from the fact that a man seems to be lost.
the man hides, breath hitched, under a vehicle and prays that not being caught is feasible in someways
a body drags on hot ground and his heart starts to pound at the sight of man, calcified and cruel whom he sits before - awaiting his rule
the back seats are packed and his facade has been cracked as tears pour down over a dead girlfriend and road’s end
a pit, a hole, a damp, dingy cell and polaroid picture of those that made his heart swell.
the child like man with eyes like the dead stood watching above after his captive he fed
of talk of stars in the deep, dark night sky and a longing to see them from the chain-ridden guy
he stares in confusion and scepticism and doubt at the man in the cage about to climb his way out.