Unnatural Disasters
A Neon Twilight & Branded Demons Poem
Six rooms past the motel ice machine,
Fungal stains spread prophecy.
Burnt offerings fill the TV screen.
Here ends dreadful odyssey.
Five blocks past the dead intersection,
Where car horns have long since ceased.
Oil spills in karmic perfection,
Summoning the totaled beast.
Four bridges past the rancid river,
Bodies swing by the dozen.
Inside filth-silk, the dead still quiver,
Bound in a witches’ coven.
Three states beyond the calamity,
The doomed and deluded flee,
Knowing their lives may end tragically.
Ceaseless winds howl like banshee.
Two days after every organ fails,
The curator soldiers on
Deftly scrying their lifeless entrails.
The final sigil is drawn.
One chapter remains in the grimoire,
Bound by flesh, blood, vanity.
Dredged from a primeval abattoir.
Scribed by foul insanity.
Nothing endures.