Wednesday, 28 January 2009

The Fighter

Fighter, fallen
Thin line of view
View disappears, then reappears.
Rattling, sharp, heaving
A stab into the torso
With each inhalation.
Brown horizon vertical
Three protusions horizontal
Two brown, one silver.
The silver's tip tainted
Tainted with the fighter
The view disappears again
Shuffling, slink, strech of leather
The brown protusions
Are close when the view reappears
View changes, with difficulty.
Metal sphere, cut and dented
Two green orbs, surrounded by silver
Widen, then narrow.
Pink contracts, limbs lift.
Pierce, crunch, cheer.
View blackens, disappears.
Rushing noise, sigh.
It's cold. warmth seeps out
From the raw void
Of broken protection.
Who knew that warmth was red?
Lifeless and silver on the floor.

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