Chrome

A chrome gun glittering in the hot sun raise, rays radiating like a heliographic rainbow, drawn from shimmering halos of inferno light, hot. White smoke from a funeral pyre, drifts like ghosts over this lost terrain. The hum of traffic on a different shore, each appealing in his own discourse, each the shadow of a passing memory, faces of lost in the Dream becoming chrome… A smoking gun; tears fly, ragged... across this war-torn dominion, to the unknown, on the coming thunder, it echoes in the canyons of a city, vast. A figure falls, the shadows deepen in the halls. Something stands tall, slow in elements of time... of a past life to no one last, screams of some come to different traffic. The hmmm of white sound! Drones in the veins of the leviathan, elements of a life lost and lived out, at last, the chrome gun glinting under a hollow sun, heliographed. …incoming of one, as the storm clouds gather on the horizon. He Dreams bitter, resounds with echoes down the Corridors of Time. As vacant a car sits, in lost baron shopping marts and forgotten car lots, the dead are sitting sublime in chrome spinning flashing over around down under a gun glittering under the Infernal Hollow Sun… oppressive hell in its damnation. Eternal! A chrome gun glittering in the hot stars, hot shells flying into the air, exploding rounds echo in chambers of ancient cities… a ruined Metropolis! Raise! Oh! Death... the reapers scream radiating like a heliographic rainbow... as the shells spin to the ground, down shimmering halos, thunder resounds sparks alight in inferno white light, hot… burning! BRIGHT!