Four horsemen hale deep in darkness their
knives and swords tear open red flesh
the city filled with smoke while skeletons
dangle from open doorways. Some are burned in
fires rising while some drowned in the turbulent
sea. A sweet cellist sits and plays alone among
the black and gray smoke singing in the dust.
A young Angel's wings catch fire and dead men
with quiet guns, face down in earthen graves.
Men like rust and set in dust with bloody teeth
streaming down their hungry face. No guns no
warriors left only black haunted houses with
gray broken gates. The skies are adrift with
smoke. Planets blow apart and seize
only fire. It is over, it is the end.