Silent Planet Panic Room

Lustrous lines obscured by opaque blinds frozen metacarpals tap tap tap the window glass. Syncopated staccatos with the broken clock synchronized with my posttraumatic ticks ticks talking to the space in the room that echoes back indiscernibly to my disconnected self, self its selfconsuming, what s ensuing is my undoing the nightly casualty of war. 01 And it sounds like this: War, endless war. In my endless dance with entropy I must rescind my sentience, the sickness that I know. 02 Rearrange the disarray of disintegrated senses puzzle pieces, spectral splinters of a soldiers worn and tattered soul. In my endless dance with entropy I must rescind my sentience, the sickness that I know. Machines of air looking down on us 03 the beasts of dust as we grapple heel and hand, 04 mud and sand, (blood red oil) 05 the chaff of the harvest 06 converted to currencies of wealthy means, stepping stones cut from our perforated bones. Riches are reaped beside our bodies so