The man walks
With shoulders, boulders
Furrowing the floor behind him
Carving earth in their wake

The man speaks
With words, concrete
Each layer entombing him deeper
Until silence claims him

The man embraces
With arms, barbed wire
Implanting themselves deep in the flesh
Never to release their buried grips

The man cries
With tears, hot acid
Leaving behind naught but singed skin
He weeps in shadows unseen

The man draws
With skin, carvings
Charting history; where he’s been
Where he never planned to go

The man smiles
With teeth, saw blades
Slicing through the air with malice
Butchered intent

The man lives
With fear, shackles
Forbidding him hope of leave;
His home abandon

The Woman loves
With fervor, the monster
Even still

-Zach Martin