I am already gone, and I have been so for decades
and now my grandchildren only move at their own peril -
this way was already paved three generations ago.

A dying juxtaposition of brain and wire;
nadir and fire; sordid and consequence
are there for them to receive.

Self-improvement transcended
the indigenity I grew to become.
Tradition was theirs to break,
bottle up and nestle on the restless tides
of revolution. The connoisseur of the times
is a police van.
Last edited by Bleed Away at Jan 18, 2012,