Haze

Haze

I don’t go in there anymore.

That’s where the world ended.
It was quiet;
Sudden.
One morning the sun was shining.
The next, everywhere was fire and brimstone.
I haven’t seen the sun rise since.

I don’t go in there anymore.

Blood soaks my hands leaving streaks like a
Child’s finger painting.
It’s dirty brown and violent red,
No green or purple to see.

I don’t go in there anymore.

They say it’s gone, but I know better.
It never left;
Only spread layer by layer until vision was hazy pink and brains boiled,
Eyes burst where they stood, mush inside blank stares.

I don’t go in there anymore.

She did it in there.
She signed a deal with the devil
And the world slipped away in a baggie of puss and bile.
There was no boom, no fight, no warning,
Just blood soaked hands and hazy pink horizons.

I don’t go in there anymore.