Fearing the Skies of Home

I finish the day with a backlit screen.

A flurry of moving images bleed over

The lifeless faces of onlookers

waiting for life

Giving blood to warm the tears from their faces.

I continue capturing a carpet of color

Woven by ones and zeros

The man in our house

Selling us paranoia and safety

In the same statement

visions of old freedom cling desperately

To new bombs

A nexus of life and death.

Early this morning the alarm irritated myself from slumber

Four times

The voice saying "this day will be good" is silenced

By screaming for help

with hope someone will answer.

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