Heavy hearts.

Images;

or maybe feelings,

passions, premonitions

run in grey billows

over the rain swept picture

insides dancing unhappily

to an edgy rhythm

of deceit, callousness and hatred,

as we shuffle forward in this airy dance,

and be sure that some

kinda hard rains are a falling

melting away what we all know,

as the mind, heart and soul

can only see the sludge

left by our excesses,

as the picture brightens

to a multitude of horrors

spliced into a montage of

harrowing images,

set to loathsome poly-rhythmic

score that the musicians struggle to read,

so that the dissonances

stack up in cruel heaps,

the little figures drown in there own

in-human follies,

as the image cringes

into our heavy hearts.

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2 thoughts on “Heavy hearts.

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