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,

crying out in agony,

for a chance to unleash

its deadly vile,

dreams fill the void,

crossing bridges of despair,

as the goddess of the night,

warms her 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 without reason,

death without meaning;

angels of light mourn for lost lovers,

impaled by their existence,

crying out 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,,

while eagles burst into flames

and die screaming their last goodbyes.

.

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