Connected inside of this
mausoleum.
To echo in,
receiving what we are
screaming.
No coherence,
just confusion.
Unable to tear away
a single voice
in the noise.
A dance melee.
Started out
an ordinary day,
until the shout;
Chaos joined the fray.
Purge begins
when the finger
finds the unclean;
then the fires start.
Atrocity,
such a pretty
eventuality.
The road to Hell
lined with Peony.
Roses red,
violent apathy.
Dread assuaged
by the LED.
A magic word.
A cigarette
still contains power,
like it did back then.
Mesmerize,
divide
and override.
We were always
wireless,
why did we compromise?
Orange glow
in the night,
city lights
come and go.
Immortal statues
gone like Rome.
Pillars smashed,
the way the atom goes.
I never thought
the Water-Heads
were 8-Balls,
describing this scenario.
All so perfect,
the sound rises,
cacophony
to crescendo.
A masterpiece
of insurrection,
madness
and servitude.
Blue skies,
un-clamoured,
never went out of style.
Faces bathed,
irradiated,
still hold
their rictus grin,
even after
the lights
go out.
HG – 2018
