Blood splatters on the window sill,
I stand, poised, tip-toed and
tasting the flammable air.
Wallpaper adorned with flags and
the thought of united we fall,
it slips down the brick-lined hallways:
A crimson calm over the crisp panic.
Chip off a piece of this world, with
all its jangling gypsy riches,
and taste the air –
Spattered with synthetic bliss
and bedizened with happenstance dreams.
