A breeze lifts some trash on a desolate downtown road.
It flops to a greasy slap against a thumping building,
the heart beating building of a body with no veins or arteries.
The windowless beating monolith stands proud and
the greasy trash pulls away, looks far down the road
and sees a door open where three men emerge.
The suited, sunglassed trio set their ties and step toward the monolith.
Their heels click the concrete like soft chalk, their gaze unwavering.
Their ears perk with each thump from the faceless stone beast.
Caring: “Id’s not going to be happy about this.”
Conscience: “It’s time to stop him”
Honor: “Whatever happens…don’t miss.”
The greasy flopping trash topples toward the trio,
and dodges right, earning the glance of Caring.
Then Conscience looks up into the sun,
deep into the yellow spinning a small black hole appears,
And setting his feet he stares harder.
The other two stop and watch him.
The blackness grows and color appears in the center,
slowly taking shape into something familiar,
a face,
the face,
of their God
standing in front of a mirror
sagging blue bags pull his bloodshot eyes
The God looks into his quivering eyes and prays he can change
The trio look back at the building and their calm clicks
quickly hurry to a pace of frenzied professors reciting theorems.
They throw open the door and meet blackness incarnate.
The room, forty stories high,
thick with the smell of sweat and booze,
stops silent. First time in five straight years.
They remove their sunglasses
and there in the center was the beast.
Id growled and threw three women off of him
They landed crashing into glass tables covered in drugs and booze
Id stood as the proud monolith, producing his silver pistol and fired
The three pulled their weapons and returned fire.
Caring crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood.
Honor stepped out of the blood and tried to flank Id
but quickly landed on the floor with a hole through his eye.
The firing stopped
Id: “You’re too late.” And pointed to the door.
Conscience ran to the street and stared into the sun.
God held the needle in his teeth as he tied the tourniquet
And as the God’s mind retreated he heard a single word repeating.
The flopping greasy trash looked back behind and saw the
suited man, bloodied and beaten screaming over and over.
Conscience: “Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Elizabeth!”
Id ran out of the building and shielded his eyes from the sun
covered his ears from the screams
and a tear fell from his eye
quietly crashing on the chalky concrete
The sound of sobbing could be heard from the sun and the rain released.
The single suited man, holstered his weapon and walked back down the road.
The greasy trash flipped one last flop onto a wave bound for a gutter
and the streets were clean again.
