A waltz in Hell

A waltz In Hell


At twilight hell began-
the clouds cracked and the air was pounded with an uneven crimson beat.
Waiting on some special sun to save us,
we flew on wings of light and kissed our guns
and our sparks were cleaned and eaten by the night.
In the holes our fingertips hung like black crystals
pointing to an unearthed moon.
The dry un-christened Earth became drunk on the sticky ruby phlegm of our crystalline bodies,
and underwent a waltzing baptism of fire and light
as the shadows of men curled and crisped beside its heat.
Elements of steel machinery and rotgut crawled with slow grins towards the neutral positions,
and the hands of Death grown and cultivated by our most skilled scientists were thrown over the lines
to the grand applause of the laughing spirits of blood which streaked across the sky.
A false day exploded over the scene with white sadism and
illuminated the scarred facades of clocktowers and storefronts,
their windows half-blind and dark.
The moon lost control of its motors and began to stagger drunk down the back-half of the sky.
there were cracks of silence between the whistles of hell;
nearly all the crystal bodies were used up,
stumped and baked into the smoke and warm mud.
The earth began to slow its waltz,
and the spirits of blood became bored with the show.
The first arms of light reached over the mountains,
dragging out the truth of all the absurd muck and ruin,
and finally the sun awoke from the east and peaked her head over the horizon,
only to find that there was nothing left for her to save.