Ablaze To Our Joy

Things are just shit. Whatever powers that may be are determined to break everything we enjoyed into pieces and throw them into a fire...

I'll still have hope, but the pressures of this dismal fate are beginning to kill me...

When it's over will our family be able to pull it together? How many will we lose? I feel as if I'm stuck in a glass room punished to watch it all, as the toxic gas of isolation billows over like waterfalls on the floor...

I can only pass note by a hole in the wall, which frequently closes... The news is never the best, and my suffocation only worsens.

I can't continue the breath my own piss and shit. A beaten corpse, wounded by the devastation of fateful destruction, continuing to crawl toward whatever safety remains. In his heart he knows only persistence, but his dreaded organ of reason repeats the same murderous message; return, accept this, and die.

Watching himself inch more and more, he realizes he may go on, but for what? What's left of this torn body? He may as well be another corpse in that wheelbarrow. Staring up at that sky; being the last beautiful thing they may ever see...

A dark smog begins to take his sight... He's not at all sure what to think of it... Blinding him will ease the sight of this sad act of desperation, but without his sight, he will not be able enjoy that pale blue beautiful sky, seemingly endless in miles of nothing...

Realizing that he can no longer see his hands clawing at the bloodstained dirt, and unsure how to navigate, he continues to wander through a desolate dream all his own.