Scourge

Sharpened wheels,
Shiny track falling off
The world’s edge
Into the maw of the

D
E
V
I
L

Crunch, crunch.

No tickets required,
Only shackles.
The dull reflection
Of flooded fields,
Pallid faces float
Near the surface.

The sun makes heroes of us all,
Golden beauties
For the abattoir;
Thirsty blades quiver,
Eager for prime cuts,
Jugged victims,
Spiced offerings,
Classical delicacies,
We are fast-food Messiahs,
Cheap & easy to consume.

Catalogued to the zeroes,
Blank statistics,
Moses’ rod fires bullets,
Parting pleas.
The ladder is made of snakes:
Angry, spiteful, spit-full.

Terminal terminus,
Cyclical schedule,
Retching souls
Make clouds weep.
Truth too terrible,
Ultimate magic trick
#genocide#

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