Aurora Rises

Never again He says Lying in bed Images of the gats, the blood The terror race through Our heads Of the black mask masking the Already masked-by-the-past masked Face. What face? Screaming Calling – Shrills. I am the Joker! Fire fumes through the pores Of the goddess of the dawn Snapped bones; slashed tendons Flames spit red and orange Like his matted locks of guiltless Pleasure. He melts her skin – A puddle of sobriety and fear Recollections of the panic Slosh around Our ankles. But she rises, Aurora, From his destruction Like the phoenix from its embers As we rise from the cinders Of twelve beloved Wounded by metal But murdered by the holes In the Joker’s Black, shriveled Destitute heart. I’m never taking you again Never again. He says. Seventeen years Grip to the cooling body Of a lifeless corpse. Come on, we have to go! He cries Dripping in her blood; That of the other eleven, The same as the fifty-eight: Suffering; A finger to the trigger, A mind on something bigger. My goal is to increase the efficiency Of how human beings learn and remember. I am the Joker! We remember. The embers of the deceased Eternally burn in our minds In our broken still-beating hearts. Of course We remember. Not just the journalist Or the boyfriend, Not the youngest: age six But those who perished as Rebels, Those who bled orange and red Back East. Fourteen years, five years, and now. We remember the calamities, Tears. Struggles To recover. Is that what you wanted? Say something! Psychotic eyes yell into the distance Of the dark wooded courthouse Resisting the silence of his voice. A persona of evilness emanates From his wordless lips, his Petrifying gazes. The matted Fire Burns out, leaving him Nothing but a world of solitude And memoires of the stampede Of entertainment-seekers. The ones he never had a chance To kill. I’m never taking you to that theater again. Never again He says.