| The Desolation Rapture: PARTS II AND III PART II Holed up like mice waiting for the cat, The formally vacant rooms are shadowed with fear. Even in the highlight of the midday sun, Therein lies the unconquerable endgame. The spooked chatter of the inhabitants, Speaking of a rescue, a new society, food, and water. But who watches the watchmen? Guns loaded with the anxiety of survival? The mindless are aware of this haven. They seek the colonization within. The flesh of fallen angels to quench their craving, Their eternal hunger. They pillage the countryside cemeteries, The soil around the weather worn markers. The dead trees watch over them, And an ashen snow begins to fall. The blizzard of the apocalypse blows through the forests, Bringing its fireworks of snow and hail to our dark tower. We watch from the frost bitten windows for the specters, Their footsteps advance through the ice. The tower sways in the wind, threatening to tear apart. Windows break, wood splinters. Their dead hands reach within as they stumble towards An ascension. The four horsemen ride into the trees, Past the steel doors of the elevators, They are close, and they ride. The destination button ceases its glow, the metal doors slide open. PART III Their footsteps trample down the corridors. I feel so cold. The hinges on the door rattle with contempt. This mess we're in. The grievous screams bleed into an infinity of twilight storms. The rotten stench of derma wafts into the atmosphere. Crimson rivers flow from the tapestries around us. The masque of red death. We vanish into the snow shadowed witching hour. The clutch slips the car into gear as it sprawls out across the pavement. She takes my hand in hers and brushes her lips against mine. We ride under the veil of barren, snow covered, branches. I awoke to a world of tears and loss, A polar to my dreams of bliss. My heart, formally confined, unified by a kiss. A love found at the end of the world. |