beep-boop01

Anywhere there's smoke, anywhere there's light; anywhere there's a riot, a reason, and a military, there will be pharaohs entombed in their houses and in fields of sanguinary debris. A clarion of triumph will echo into the sky; now they sing of Sumer, they sing of wheat and rye and hops, trembling in bloodstained fatigues under the sickle moon's soothing lights. The only smoke now whistled from the pockmarked earth, an argent joke among thieves and warriors. The pyramid homes lined outside the modern day Colosseum, silver madonna'd lawns, idols in every window. Children escaping doorways, gambolling into the open arms of