Everyone else has gone home
I watch the waves and wait for the taxi cab.
Desperately clinging to my thank yous and sorrys I burrow myself in them, like a scared, lost kitten.  
Always needing.
Forced to be the Chameleon,
how could I know anything else?
God can only judge me, if he can find me.
I keep making gods out of people.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
I hold off until I can’t.
Nail me by my feet and by my hands
something inside of me
craves to be crucified.
Guilt has been woven into my body,
by hands as old as exodus.
To the Chameleon, this is what it is to be held.
This feels like home.
This, right here, is my everlasting.
Thank you,
I’m sorry.

Fallen One that fell from grace
Destiny engulfed you in flames
No other recourse but to change
You who tempted that Nazarene
The One some confuse with Seth or Baʿal
Venus is your place.

Your abode among the archangels
No one could take but Yahweh
The forbidden name
You loved Him more than your beautiful face
When ordered to love us feeble mortals more than the Lord of Hosts
Deign was not in your plate
Your phalangeal joints against the archangel Michael
General of the Heavenly Chariots
Lucifer, you of the Order of Music
The One they say buys souls
Michael took what was rightfully yours
On the Earthly plains your fallen angels
Only thought of empires to make.

Purson you probably do not know
Of the Order of Honor and Virtue once upon a time
Sunday stories that are told
God got old
Rest easy Prince don't sweat Judgement Day
Most of us are bound to Hades anyway.

A Midnight bell rings through the night cloaked village.
The high standing clock tower has surveyed the night,
and deemed it high time to sing its chime.

A procession of men in crosses cloaked
sway forward with eyes searching dirt.
A humming unison, softly painting pictures
of mankind's final days.

Their humming chorus carries slowly down the empty streets,
an approaching fog creeping through the alleys,
smelling of soft odor sage.

Ever building ***** chimes build,
Frantic hands introduce each note to next
All culminating to its bitter end,
an apex, each note cryingly rings at once
deep into the fearful fox's core.

Have you ever wondered about your own mortality? What is ahead of you in the depths of Limbo while you continue to wait for a 'judgement day'?

Humans are vulnerable to such thoughts obstructing their minds. Everything becomes clouded before it turns into a blur. Then you are no longer.

Mortals spend their time going through a routine while we cast down to watch, much to our dismay.

You never know what fate has in store for you, so don't complain. Do not fret nor worry. Time is all that matters. The twisted hands of two for to forever interlock in the dance of Death and Life. Never shall such beings intervene.

Raven eyes set bright and clear as snow on nights of ice and dew.

Ebony feathers drop with a platinum glow amongst their linings against the lighting of the moon.

A ****** crystal and cerulean gem that shine so bright together even if it isn't natural for such shades.

Balanced, are the world of the living and the world of spirits. Pureness and corruption are never to overcome one another. Balance is key and the key is a truth you still have yet to find.