a thin orange sliver brightens the night
enough to take the top off the fighter.
contact so clean there’s no smoke.
just the soundless plummet ground ways.
idle dust on a twisted fuselage
the incision still glowing orange

two fighters make for a second pass.
freed from the armour plating
a toothen mawed rifle grins, and grins.
doesn’t take long
for fuselage to become a shower of black shards
flying past crimson armour, still unbowed.


when all else fails, refer to giant robots. solves everything.

music listened to as i typed this up:

video uploaded by user Nitori Kappashiro

2 things. amateras records are pretty great, and i’m digging this trance thing.


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