On Patrol

Time no longer matters
in this land of no return,
where control of existence
is power,
even among the least of men.

If you listen
you can hear the thunder
of the demons beating heart,
as it cries out in agony,
waiting for the chance
to unleash its deadly, putrid vile,
dreams fill the void,
crossing bridges of despair
over chasms of life;

goddess of the night
come warm your icy soul
with the heat of lust
generated by a thousand
beastly cries.

Once there was honor,
now there is darkness,
cold, hard, empty
power with no reason,
other than power,
death with no meaning
other than death,
angels of light
mourn for lost lovers,
impaled by their existence
to gods who cannot hear.

Sleep comes slow
for those who lay and wait
in their coffins of pain,
as silence stalks its prey,
seeking to devour
its just rewards,
waiting for a dawn
that never comes,
cast down
into pits of emptiness,
where cold hard reality lurks,
as eagles burst into flames
and die screaming
their last goodbyes.
.
.