cement dust blankets vistas of the world forever gone… through the fluorescent light-fields and white noise hiss-tracts… distorted visions trailing neon haze spectres along the infinite blast-wall corridors… despondent eyes watch the lunar installation corrode the dying sun…
a river of kerosene snakes a slow path across the bed of the drained lake… a hundred grave candles circle an obsidian monolith… pretty girls dance in long ruination, dreams adrift on the long, grey vague… tender boys sidle between the collapsing columns, bathed in the shadowy half-light…
premonitions of the fallout, coming like thin drizzle settling over the looming tower-blocks; smoke and fires torching the midnight sky… testimonies to the litany of unholy human wars… the rationale, the hubris, the voices – they were wrong…
a black mollusc slithers, dying, across a rotting atlas… fingernails scrape at tree bark, lanterns light desolate paths into the long desert dark… before the prison-porticoes beckon us to fall apart, before a column of white smoke rises from a silent circle… there are rituals still to be undertaken, my beloved…
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