I picture lines of twelve different shades
Knaves, unscrupulous and brimming
Blades like dothraki or valerian
The twelve strode the red sand as crustaceans skimming.
For what does it profit man
To appear so gaunt
Desolation his orifice and rood so tan
To seem to want more
Allez! The echoes rang out
The feeling leaving them sore
Free, but out didn’t resolve much
Blue pearlescent line shimmered
Its flailing caused the rest of its light to flush.
The eleven teetered on the edge
Of the world
The mist cracking a wedge,
With four lines did the fraulein fall.
Seven had moved through the maze
Crucifix tight across the chest
Red sandy Arizona spread across
Journey with purpose led the lines west
The king was in their hold
Captivity drove a few men mad
These twelve, now seven, had grown bold
Obstacles daring to shut their path
Stretching the canyon failed them
For two lines had lost girth, libido.
The five said an oath to end the king
A sepulcher greeted with mirth
A single cut took the helm off
One that required the life of two
Green and viscous pink the trade off.
Leaving three to tango home
Mothership was omniscient,
an uncountable series of line drones
Grey, black and white dribbled turpentine
The blood from the king’s head
Greetings and color swatches gave them smiles
As the ship pulled out of the deep red.