those things fall apart

getting used to the idea

Nelson Gatlin

of the bomb dropping

Nelson Gatlin

never becomes a comfort

Nelson Gatlin

an ice pick to the back of the brain

Nelson Gatlin

vision myself on the surface

Nelson Gatlin

of another planet

Nelson Gatlin

hearing the missiles slip-sliding

Nelson Gatlin

over mother earth

Nelson Gatlin

that's what mothers are used to, right

Nelson Gatlin

used to the eyes-glazed, watching

Nelson Gatlin

those things fall apart

Nelson Gatlin

here find glowing red roses

Nelson Gatlin

from the heart

Nelson Gatlin

constant hum through neon thorns

Nelson Gatlin

will soon fade/wilted things try to warn

Nelson Gatlin