Fire breathing it’s own life
in a cold, desolate forgotten field
Air putrid, stale and harsh
burning in your lungs
Sensuously, seductively
in a way that makes death seem like magic
Oh, yes it will go sometimes like this...
A gray haze forming on the horizon
slowly engulfing all you thought...
you knew of truth
or any sense of being
It will go sometimes like this...
in a room filled with hostile derangement
Eyes of strangers glaring upon you
like a pack of rabid dogs
enraged that you have not joined in their hunt
It will go sometimes like this ....
Starring at blank television screens
wondering who you were
and what you came to be
