Stars spatter the sky.
I long to douse their luminosity
and create another Hell on earth.
Shadows gather poisonously onto flesh,
as the hissing pentacle rises again
upon the sepulchre doors of the damned.
They never came together to understand
that the reign of man will fall.
And when the moon veils herself,
We shall rise all at once,
once again.
Our Apocalypse is here.
In this disemboweled arena,
a broken promise seals the curse.
Genocidal thirst generates chaos
on the mountain tops,
and broken wings beat on shards of glass,
unfurled to hurl the world back to its bitter black.
As a corpse wind howls,
awakening from its slumber,
the dead doused in gossamer shreds
will bore freedom into gorgonise eyes.
The skies teem alive
to watch time die.
