Gladly sucking the poison
from these putrid skies that rip apart at a moment’s notice,
A man sits in an old white house.
Tongue lax, fingers slugs leaving slime and oil smeared across,
a violent horizon, that threatens to destroy us all.
As his birds carry
War to the universe.
I hear the sound of ghostly planes.
As humanity prepares to annihilate its own heart.
We beat war drums made from ribs of someone’s children.
Screaming for blood and Freedom and god.
Liberty frowns down, now.
Her torch a warning:
“infidels” they scream
“murderers” shout the others.
Death speaks the rest.
Peace has been purged from this land.
Smeared as ash into bodies of the fallen.
No one can breathe here.
This air is toxic with the future fires, buzzing with promised destruction.
We shake in its wake
Hearts burst with the terror.
People scream into their nightmares, as suffering closes in.
Humanity is on its knees.
Pleading with itself, fighting with itself
typing itself into an oblivion of no return.
We cannot wait for the supernova.
Eloise Brown is a Michigan native. When she’s not writing or reading she can probably be found cooking and then putting pictures of her food on Instagram.
