Constructing kibblezes on old dogs’ bones,
roaming-toward-river-rove hounds-into-homes,
as hoarders-of-history destroying-by-drone,
keep-kinder-in-kennels, zeroed-kill-zones,
muffle-their-mouths and warp-what is known,
self-righteous, self-evidently-sacred-sown,
sole was your suffering? And-always-alone?
No. Boundless-breeds in ashen winds blown,
maligned-were-multitudes yet-still-you bemoan
that persecution’s-portents-pity yours, alone.
That-oft-toil-and-tithing of others-you-own,
for-fruiting-or-fucking-or-fighting-or-flown
savagely-sanguine-strength-as-suffering-shown
being-as-belonging to no group, alone,
and can be given by any-and-all.
You’ve become-the-baddies.
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– achrilock