PRIMORDIAL FLASHBACK

hurtling past me

your eyes speed shuttering in 360 degree arcs

you clamber up the torn clay steps with unmitigated resolve

I glimpse the flatline glow of a carved obsidian knife in your hand

as you halt occasionally to gulp down great draughts of moist bloodline heat

and then stab wildly at the air with your dark blade

temporarily parting the faint clouds of syrupy death

left by ancient Aztec executioners

as the gold dust atmosphere contaminated with misery

presses down upon you with irresistible force

a slow contorted smile smears across your face

as you think of stoic Japanese samurai committing seppuku

and wonder if the infliction of your black implement into my eggshell skin

will count as a sacrifice to the Aztec sun god