“The nuclear arms race is like two sworn enemies standing waist deep in gasoline, one with three matches, the other with five.”

                                    -Carl Sagan

Nightmare

I can find no silver lining to my cloud, only the tormented rain, beating out its own agonized misery upon the rooftops of the dead. And where lies the horizon from whence summer should rise, the tendrils of a blood red dusk creep higher, promising the destruction within, wrought from my own obscurity, I am a prisoner of my own soul.

 The lucid torturer who comes each night with brutal whispers of derision is none other then myself, in all my vicious candour, I persecute myself, for the wrongs I shall not commit. No life lies upon this plain of desolation, my sanctity is broken, my dreams shattered, disillusioned beyond repair.
My cold, cynical heart holds the grey desire of a thousand murderers, painting the delirious heavens a devilry of discrimination and maltreatment designed to beguile the most vindictive of spirits.

 If you enter into this bitter jurisdiction, you will find no sun to this shade, no hope to this despair, and no dawn will light these frigid skies. So upon your broken wings my friend, fly if you have the strength left to do so. Fly before this nightmare, before you too, find it your reality.

Red Wine

Sordid, it calls to the darkness within

Sickly, sinister as sin

Red gluttony spilling down my throat

Around my lips doth liquid choke,

More, more, my scrambled mind cries

As one more brain cell dies

Awakening sounds within my head

Voices I thought long dead

They whisper secret things

And to my mind an illness brings

Grotesque affliction of mine

That deadly, dark red wine

Chess

The board is set the game is played

No more moves to be delayed

The king in check the queen no more

I see the end of the chess-piece war

The bishop dead, my knight is slain

My castle sacrificed in pointless gain

The pawn creeps up, unaware

And has the impudence to declare

By some cruel twist of fate

Checkmate.