We lived there before the sky burnt
it was a pleasant place of anarchy
where the sons would turn the wheel
of what you wonder that's lost in the
flash that descended on the skies.

Now the story gets distorted In either
the burning moment or the scaring
repetitions that flaked and healed not
as a scar should. For now all was concealed
in the places where eyes now burnt out.

Its a lovely place for a tan of many descending
depravities as what was whole now not.
Teeth chatter in the walls where lips chewed
from little bites. A smile to make a mother
proud as she cooks all your friends parts.

Waste not, want not. What mothers said we
tasted my lover we savoured every bit.
Look at my home of bones eradiated in the
garden glowing in abolished of the flesh.
Seed my garden, grow tombstones instead.