The Setting Sun

there is a nastiness in the rain,

cold and numbing,

brutally reminding its victims

there are no longer any friends,

no more refuge,

against the endless, mindless world

existing within;

on TV they are arguing about

Presidential whores,

while two hundred million

are just trying to make it;

one more day;

pretending and praying,

it will all just go away,

that it will be as it once was,

fresh and alive,

something new,

nubile innocence

lighting up the scarlet night;

but there is only death;

here below,

where even the mightiest lose their will,

the sun is setting

for the very last time.

.

.