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it was one of those whispers in the wind . . . hoarse, harsh ugly whispers of creaking wood on glass . . .

cordissa . . .

dead . . . dead . . . DEAD . . . so many made dead, dem - dey had there chance to recover.  to re-do, but that was never dem, never what dey going to do. give dem a chance to recover from dem stupid - and here dey DARE. stare in the face of death, into the very naked eye of death, and not pray dem live past the moment. NO. dey laugh like nothing done happened. it stood there in silent as dey stared in its silent eye - its black hole of fate and state dey did NOT KNOW dem DEAD. soul gone in an instant, and spirit just a wisp to be blown away.

HA!

HA!

say - cordissa, say jazell, say all who are the collected bitterness - say all who have name that is nothing but verb coming destruction, and coming retribution for all that was wrong - ALL dem wrongs all you ARE DEAD FOR - . dem bones rattle . . . dem bones shake - the earth it rolls in skin a quake . . . dem bones rattle . . . dem bones shake, the husks churning loud like the tail of that snake . . . in clouds we rumbled . . . in soils we shook, and below we stood for that moment and paced as the ones we were OWED we took . . .


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