Apocalyptic Dance

The city digs deeper into the damp air.
Come. Come closer, little doll.
Red lights blink and play,
tempting you to sell what is left.

Lift the skirt, show the flesh.
This is just meat. A sinful protest.

We are the lovers, we are the rouges.
Metal tourniquet infected into our veins.
It is our hell, after world's end.

Destroy all these faces. Smash the bones.
„Come home, God,“ we cry.
We curse ourselves to the final beat,
line up, trade our decayed lungs.

These mouths are never full,
Grinding teeth of greedy little flies.
For rusted scars and silent wars,
We claim the sunset with the hail,
While the Death takes his sail.

****

The golden peak sings its last song,
as future flickers its wings in those dead eyes.
He wished for the morning,
but when it arrived
with the freezing sunbeams of the winter,
he knew it had to be the bad choice.

Blue feathers shattered into the dust.
You brought white lillies to his grave,
when every day of the new year begun.

Pour this venom out, child.
Like black disease from thine heart.
It was his choice to go.

The veins are pulsing.
Desperately.
Wait.

Wait....

Thine time isn't here yet, child.
Year after year, until the circle is filled.
Until the next life starts to run.
Inside this bosom,
carrying the son of the singingbird.