The rusted hinges of the gates to paradise scream like the damned when they open, the blasted, bombed out shells of suburbs and skyscrapers silent and sullen, and along the great beshadowed road that began in shine and sparkle I lament the bottle's bottom.
There was a time when I thought I knew, when the universe itself was forever instead of never, yet in these latter days, this bleakest of seasons, I see in the mirror a liar, a starved wild eyed fox, a heathen.
Think twice before you follow me. Vampires sleep in coffins of hateful sobriety, rise with the night and live as beasts with black outs and no memory.
I am lost. The war is lost. I wonder how long my shadow and I can co-exist.