IV.
so we failed, that’s alright, we’ll cobble together
a new plan; this is plan b:

when the clock strikes two in the dead of the night
we’ll set off in glow-in-the-dark hot air balloons,
raze the sky in neon shades
of blinding yellow blue pink and green

remember, it’s a
race against the clock, raze against the crock
do it fast do it right we’ll be done before you know it.

victorious, (it’s all over, god, finally, thank you)
we’ll float home in the glow of the red dawn.

V.
historically speaking, it’s always been a question of numbers:
how many pawns do you have to spare
how many peons do you have to sacrifice
how many crazed souls do you have in power

(count off,
a one two three
a one two three four five six
a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand;
there’s a rotten apple within the mix,
black to the core, twisted, grotesque,
sink your teeth into it and it’ll bite your tongue off instead)

I’ll weep for you by your unmarked graves
or whatever pit she deigns to dump you in.