64. red slaughter

red slaughter, or, reed, abstractly,

for centuries in purgatory,

went inside, who knows when,

who knows why (for some reason)

purgatory, as you know,

is bland, and grey, and pretty cold,

filled with spirits, transitory,

passing through, in vapory

red slaughter, or, reed, abstractly,

languished, well, forever, seeming,

decided he had done his shake,

orchestrates a prison break

it goes like this (complexily),

first establish an alibi,

this he does with the widow wren,

who covers at the launderette

follows, then, the red herrings,

the meats (the drugs), the cerebrus,

the danish amber, dunked in boats,

the bolds, the furies, basilisks

chains corrode the acids, so,

paper planes distract the guards,

looking past the palace peeps,

old bruno, in his ales, steeped

he planned it for the nighttime, but,

purgatory it’s just sunset —

make do with what you’re given

(grey, with a thin red sliver)

here is where it all goes fast!

the guards are looking somewhere, west —

he burrows under river styx —

cerberus sleeping off his steak —

the launderette discovers late,

his absence from his scheduled shift —

the worms, however, on to him,

start to cave the tunnel in

now he’s trapped, buried, been,

here comes rescue, the marines!

(really, just a mole arrives,

digs him out the other side)

red slaughter, or, reed, abstractly,

trapped for years in purgatory,

free, at last, or so it seems,

emerges out into the green

Like what you read? Give ryan onstott a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.