Squish

The sound two storeys up
Past the mewling cats
That sounded as though they were
Orgasming pain

The blunt object upon which
A history had been written
Yet none had anticipated its
Final trajectory through bone
Into brain

The taste of death mingled
With the smells of excrement
The smells of absolute terror
As a victim soils itself

The cats continue
Up and down and then up down down
Squish squish squish

Sunbaked Pathers

What better time to write than in the glow of sun on the coast! I'm not sure what worth there is in this other than he experiment of tracing a thought which on reflection I find interesting. Yes I saw an ant walking on some bricks and here is the rest of that thought.

Sunbaked Pathers

This glorious pavement
Forget me not says the ant
Upon it reciting words that
Were spoken when there was grass only here and dunes that stretched fifty yards or so in successions of mounds four own to the shore
His legs touch the earth
And communicate with it
The lines of pavement cry for their
Mother a giant slab dug from limestone in a quarry where shards
Of sand compressed to birth it
And before that structures organic and non crumbled and decomposed to weave the colors of the sand

This is my home wedged and perfectly tessellated between my brothers hard and stubborn as the filler that binds us
All these things are here present
History playing out the shape of The land only crudely buried beneath
The make of man