Sunday, December 16, 2012

Apocalypse Sun

The black apocalypse sun
Rises in the darkness
A night that will never wake
Our home
Darkened by
Industrial pollution
Chimneys and Incinerators
Fog and smog
A stranger is running
Up my drive way
I am frightened and
Run past my door
I live a lone
And it’s dangerous to stop
To open the door
The hand tapping on my window
In the night
A hand like a giant
Fat and wrinkly
Spent all day under the apocalypse sun
Curls his finger and beckons
Me outside
To travel
The world again

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