Journey northwest, towards the Cascades tonight.
Bring along your cargo, doubt and pride.
Blaze through the Taylor Mountain trails, leave your hide.
A soldier, reluctant, jaw clenched tight.
And if we could still burn cities to the ground,
Bathe our entity in the unfound skulls atop the mound.
If we could walk through murder suicide, our land?
If your mind and teeth cannot caress, beat me then.
Would you not grip me tighter, twirl me around,
Bed me on the pitiful husks at Puget Sound?
Instead you flew to Tallahassee tonight.
Left me accused — speak, what other lie,
What treachery of compatriots, what crime
Shall I commit that warrants your faith and time?
And if we can’t still incite the vapid horde,
Then I myself will hand you crowbar and chord,
If we can’t
walk through rotted timber woods, our land?
If you can’t see the
truth for the trees, kill me then.
Would you wed my corpse in his
basilica?
Bury me with your casualties at Issaquah.
August 24th, 2019 by Passenger B ©
