Perfectly placed ignorance

Ella Bostic

Broken down boys slamming, burned into blasted barrages.

Bloodied in crimson fallacy.

Their Pinkies poised: Placed to puppeteer placid peoples.

Sedentary shrieks erupt from branded bounds and they chuckle.

Hearts Scampering in their throats–Flaccid flasks flowing from a sore salting of

sanity.

Sour drunk with sweet simulation.

Cock a brow and lift a chin.

Clink your glass to the claps of communism.

Lines of forlorn feigned ignorance forming streetside

Passively plucked potatoes.

The airs forcing the clamp of sophism along pressed lips

Sharp eyes fly along, caressing baby boys into blue eyed blindness.

Crammed into the ever bloodied glass, the people beg to scream–to speak.

Whispers shuddering shutdown as they sink down, poured to clipped

communists

Dead to the word. Batons break bones as words make for shackled expectations.