Jan 24, 2006 19:30
Mindsnap
A quicker flash of his boots and he might
have missed the idol moving across the
flaming backdrop of his room at the AMiga
(a SyStems INC. blot)
picking them up deftly swinging the right out in front
like the weapon that it was, electrified shards and
long-shrapnel now cooled and waiting for the next
contact with combatants, slow bystanders or police
the blaze suffocated 1 gasp and retreated back enough for him to see
the pink magma walls writhing with a tempters' fury
a dark familiar voice
sultry like crushed velvet
bombs
came ringing through his bones
"Nice Boots. . ."