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Abattoir
The hooks lined wall to wall
The meats slung upon them, each there-by-their own accord.
The spider webs congregated the span of the roof
Not knowing where one begun or another ended
Each strand concealing axioms that few could prove the veracity
The blood that drained from the aging meat gathered in pools below
Drip by drip the pools grow deeper and deeper
Diluted only by hollow promises and false pretences
The howling screams that echo from the kill room; deafening
As the knife hand draws; you gasp your final breath
Now tracing the plot, only to stumble upon dire fill
Steel to bone; impact is such an ugly sound
Web Covered Axioms and Plots, Batman!
I take it the play was a hit full of lies, writers are all liars - we just make it fit wherever we sojourn. I read this three times, intriguing sculpting - Lady A