War paint

New skeletons are marching
against the rythmn of the angels.
Teeth grinding,
sweat dripping,
bones crunch together
to break the staggering sunlight.

Knock, knock,
the doctor enters
to fix my fits of spirit.
You starve me
into silence.

Warpaint glistens,
footprints remark on the weather
and the whisper of anarchy.

The traffic light
is turning green.
Time is ticking,
muses are awakening.

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