Future Deaths Leave a Stained Past from Whence Are Born Children of Night
Come, let us flee
from the coming dawn.
Let us lock every door,
pull the shades down low.
Let us live like vampires,
like ancient predators.
Let us hide from the world,
until ready to feast on it.
Pull me over you, soldier on,
carry on, war metaphors
hang between us, red in the air,
arousing our blood senses.
So we hearken to darkness,
to pre-civil structures
that lurk, as we do,
deep in black murk shadows.