The nuclear winter fell on this place,
This broken desert glen,
And whale bones serve as carcass homes
For the very last of men.
Oil runs like blood,
Across the broken, lifeless dune.
They siphon it from ancient cars,
And howl at the moon.
Corpses rot abandoned,
With an X upon their palm,
Irradiated from the night,
They call the Night of Bombs.
One man who lives forgotten,
On the taste of human skin,
The man exists in all of them,
The evil deep within.

Roomate:
"It's uhh...
...Mad Max role play."

Naked Bound man
center of the room:
*"We get really into character"

Going to sleep
is the best thing
a person can do.
After a long day of work
just slip under the covers
clean, wrinkled, soft and daring
the night a comfortable pillow
in which to rest sleepy tired eyes
while finishing a dystopian sci-fi movie
taking place in the desert.
Furiosa takes the night
across her shoulders
black engine grease smeared
across her forehead as Mad Max
rides shotgun
before the heat consumes them.
Enjoying every sand crusted
machine cranked thrusted
water tank bomb shell.
She is the best kind of heroine
taking complete control
of the current situation.
But sometimes there’s a break
when the dusk becomes depth
merging into the white halo of moon
slivered like a cut thumbnail
just hanging there, lifeless.
And this is when
the truth becomes
completely apparent.
Resting one’s body
after a tough week
of physical and emotional sickness
becomes first priority
where relaxation nods its weary head
to slumber under a pile of blankets.

She called me fool,
I heard it,
I loved it.
AAAAAAAARGGGGH.
Furiosa,
beautiful-strong.

Tho I'm Max,
Mad,
I am mad,
AAAAAARGHH,
I see my daughter sometimes,
she haunts my mind,
I miss-
AAAAARGHHHH.

The girls....
Not property anymore,
The coat-
AAAAARRRGHHH
breathes harshly breathes harshly
Mine.

The car....
Mine.
It's gone.

My blood...
Nux..
I wa-
AAAAARGGHHHH
breathes harshly breathes harshly breathes harshly
his blood bank,
he

HE's

Gone.