R/ckets and S/ntries

enfolded desperate talking point met world changing lighthouse, the race was on. night speared by lighthouse raygun, news from ships at sea. all is loss, or steps there. comparing one lathered Idi Amin with one Pol Pot with one entire government of United States, verse seer loses thread. thread vanishes in steel-toed boots, in something people done, in green melting over grey like an air raid. there's no piece in napalm(r) but the royal planet itself. people read in while the aliens effect some miserable exception. tone loss, scared words, left to remain. it's a portion of what we have.