| today, the victims In the shallows, murky infusions rhythm laps at the faces of the damned moon marking the brows of slumber her ruby mouth curls and blossoms for today the victims want to run no shade for their bobbing heads Hung Sol back-drops foul play scorching their stained skin they count their splintered fingers as the cores of planets spin space crusaders, painting silver the drums of pain shalome � 2004 |