All hell is loose and nothing is secure.

[ONE_MIC_ETERNAL]

Hydrons are busted, rivers flow
through the streets, Stuff is dropping
from the top of buildings. Flower pot's
and frozen t.v. dinners, and small
small antiques. I feel like an old
mad woman is doing this, she
must have went crazy, or was already
nut's, just didnt have the venue to
display her contempt.

But , no its not an old lady, its
a midget in a clown outfit, throwing
sh1t down at peoples head. I
Pick up a t.v. dinner and think
about chunking it at that goddamn
midget, but, he hasnt hurt anyone.
Not yet, anyway's.. But, I throw it
at him and it lands near his
throwing ammo, and he turn's and
say's "Thanks".

I then run up the zigzag of fire escapes
and interact with the midget clown on
a more personal note. I dangle him from
the building, his little arms flap back
and forth, his head shakes in suspicion.
"hey, my little friend, the last guy caught
throwing stuff off of roof's found himself
being tossed off one" I said, pointing
a few buildings down, where luckily
a body laid lathered in blood. The man
commited suicide but the illustration
was enough to make this midget cry.
I let him down, and he apologized for
throwing items off of buildings
and told me why he was mad.

" my mother owns a T.V. shop, she just got
murdered on 29th morrow street. Im sad,
Im angry, I dont know what to do." he said.

I look over the building, and see a looter
running away with something. Grabing up
a toaster, I throw it and it hits him.
I grab a brass paperweight from the
pile of ammo hand it to the midget
clown.

"here, attack the looters" I said.
I ran as fast as speed, and jumped over the building ,
only to grip for my very life against another building.
Eventually I straddle the top and curl over like a
old couple when sex was over.

I was tired, a small purse sat at the highest
doorway of this building, it was black with gray
stripes running down it. I almost pictured this
design as the format that we now endure,
but, it's just a purse. Where is the woman that
own's it. I brace the wall of entrance for the
worse possible scenerio, and open the door.
By the stairway a red headed vixen, sit's
with a needle and a smile..

She turns to me with a large abrasion
across her face, it looked as if acid
was thrown at her. "When, I get done with
this Im going to **** you" she said.

It's getting deadly now, whatever caused
this devastation is now eating away at
flesh. I havent seen a mirror since I
shaved this morning. God knows
what horrible vision of me that
they see. I begin to lather my
skin with my hands in an effort
to feel secure. But all hell is loose
and nothing is secure.

[Advent Verbal Kent]

That last insert proves that youre sick, demented, and truely need to seek help.

The whole midget sh!t through me off too. Whats the symbolism here???

AvK

[ONE_MIC_ETERNAL]

Not all of it posted, The first part of this makes the midget significant i guess.
below is the begining of the poem, and the middle is what you were reading.
And yeah, im sick.

boxes line the hallway's,people are dying.
Women and children are packing up there
belongings in hopes of some divine pardon
from the horror.

Shot's ring out through the air, sirens
shout into the depths of every room.
Strippers and drug dealers are turning
to God. Priest and saved souls or
expossed soul's, now show there
true nature.

A clothed Man in a red sash hammers
his hand against a young mans face,
drawing blood with each fist, all in hopes
to take the young man's car key's.

But, where will the priest go, the
destruction or force of sickness is
now widespread. My guess he'll
just go to hell, driven by his own
insignificant humanity.

watching the priest turn into a man
of rage, watching him in his trials become
the vaige sin, the petty substance of
a fearful survival. Never was he a priest,
but a great actor, had all of us under his
assumptions.

A window breaks somewhere, I hear it.
The smashing of glass and that almost
beautiful shattering sound that comes
from it.

But, it isnt beautiful today, No, today
it is a drum beating, it is a sound of
song and the song is " final moment's"

Swindlers arrive in the streets and
do the only thing they know how to,
They gather loot like pirated soul's
and bury there treasures in murder.

A woman who owns a shop on
29th morrow street is stabed with
the broken sign that read's 29th
morrow street.

Amongst the rubble, a television set
emerges from her shop, and a green
man runs out, the only color you can
tell, many of them are green, green
in there envy, and motive.

Children lay desolate in the alley way
All of them together holding there favorite
stuffed animals, all of them asleep, but
it's not as cute as it was yesterday.
they were really sleeping and dreaming
yesterday, they were full of aspirations
and now, they are as hollow as a bank
deposit box. Ugly and unappealing,
No one cries for them, no one buries
them. They lay in the alley way's
desolate.

Looter's run up the streets with smiles
over there new possesions, I take it
upon myself to just clothes line one
of them, and man did it feel well.
Man did he get it, I watch him
scoundraling for breathe, and his
once smile, a petty sorrowful
expression. He looks at me with
utter amazement, as if he thought I
was his friend, as if he thought that
we both had been talking about
murdering a woman with a street
sign and stealing televisions.
What a fool he must be, and I
click the hammer back on my
pistol and fire it at his head, but,
I never shot him, only frighten
him. I let him know, that if you
intend to kill, expect that someone
out there has a method in which
it can be easily returned.
Expect someone to kill you,
it wont be me, but you've been
apart of this murderous looting
spree, and someone is soon to
loot you, stab you with a fire
that hell doesnt know and take
the belongings that you never
owned. I conveyed this message
with eye contact, and I smiled
grimacely like a deranged psycho
and went about my way.