What Have we Become…
An achromatic darkness still haunts me,
In the distance a barrel fire burns
I hunch, hiding from something ungodly
A noise in the distance seizes my concern.
Flailing greensward reeds chafe my neck and face,
Crouched down I hide, my adrenaline rising
I cringe at the thought of me being effaced
As the bones of my skeleton keep tightening
Past the brush is a vacant underpass
Same broken van abandoned like in the movies
Doors half-cocked surrounded by broken glass
and that barrel fire still burning smoothly.
I hide my skin under the city smog
The toxic cloud that envelopes my fate
Not yet will I reveal my epilogue
My first steps I take toward St. Peter’s gate.
My steps now in trash and sewer vapors
Bums sit there in yesterday’s endeavors
I think to myself, who was that savior—
When the heart of humanity was severed?
Funny how I care about barrel fires
and this dumpster fire is what we’re left with,
the flames burn alike but with different ire
like killing swords made by career blacksmiths.
Achromatic darkness, no sunlight to blind
No colors to enliven this bleakest slate
No backspace button to erase the time
just captivated by destruction and hate.
See how this landscape darkened without you.
Churches with unlocked doors and outstretched palms
Except the palms are no more and the pews
are caked with dust along with their books of psalms.
There is no refuge for the weak, the broken.
Survival of the fittest is the motto.
Each day the heavens look like their smoking
Our tattered clothes are worn like desperados.
We run from bad guys our breaths staccato
like someone’s punching from inside the chest
and the lasting feeling is just hollow,
still we are alive, and for that we are blessed.
Some nights we gather inside of the barn,
Throw some Christmas lights up and try to dance
The generator runs with gas from the farm,
the one where I had my first stab at romance.
But the past is just that, and we move on
If we didn’t then the past would consume us
Like some plague sitting there waiting to spawn,
We need to move on, that’s just being human.
Where roads were travelled is now just grass.
Where love was consummated, now dregs of ash.
No stones being thrown inside a house of glass
The world has ended in a blinding flash