There is something grey before the dawn something
burning
Bodies in their black bags consigned to the flame
Bathing in the flame of a burning ache through my core

As creatures we are trying to crawl back through the
creation to the worm
A holocaust the feral gene
Deadly strychnine taking hold wrapping itself round
every sinew

What is left a burning seething mass
The air dank with the heady odour of decadence
Choking out the decadence leaves emptiness

Scared with scars carspaces over the body
Monuments to our destruction
A mixture both terrible and beautiful

The flames rise the pulse of primal existence
The grinding repetition such dullness the edges seem
to fade
It burns away the black day gone