One Last Stop

When the last fullstop was fired the drumbeat stops. Silent is the battle zone. Soldier 1 speaks to Soldier 2. “Hey, do you think that our hands can finally rest?” “Can we finally be still?” Sentences all come to an end. The discarded words and letters have lost their meaning: suspended expression, empty ink-cartridges. Still the heart beats, an ECG like words forming on a line. “Our work never ends, 1.” Over the hilltops came the sound of machine-gun bullet-points, a-bursting.

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