a cavalcade of ominous thoughts

xii.

crooked smiles resting atop parched lips
there's a hunger growing inside
cobwebs lingering on their bronze skins
sinister shadows passing by

love is no longer communal
hope shrivels like withering flowers
greed climbs through their throats
everything leaves a mark

it's permanent,

stuck inside a quagmire
succumbing to inherent despair
cracks open up
they take it all in

what is there left to wish for?
a forceful caress, a gentle blow
coiled up inside the thread
of their imminent disaster

nothing remains:

vomit their remains
towers of their fame collapse
it's a ruination of words
and worlds they used to be

forget they will not;
violence is hefty, it comes with a cost
and pay they shall—not in numbers,
but with their lives.

is it done yet?