Outrunning Armageddon
the dyad of sight and visibility is a threadbare ideal,
and at the end, this apparatus is only set to self destruct.
numbering itself in multiples of four and eleven,
it walks down an alley of dessicated human flesh,
head raised high in a waltz of blood and gasoline.
"lucia de gloria! lucia de Dio!" scream they who walk with severed limbs,
seeking the light of God from the bottom of the cracks of the pavement.
"welcome home" says a dismembered man, mangled beyond recognition,
with only a badge of honor on his chest as a reminder of what he was.
"a warm welcome indeed" answers the apparatus,
spreading embraces filled with bittersweet compassion.
"call me armageddon, the end is near"
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