“Drip, drip, drip,” goes the rain

Thinks he

As a deep red smears his fingers

Wiping a cheek and turning to the skies

High above in the clouds

Floats the crucifixions

Of humans by the millions

An ocean of flesh

Indiscriminately strung up

By the invisible

Their eyes are torn to pink

Seeing nothing below

Of the teeming carpet—

That ceaseless floor

Of endeavor and suffering

Heads slumped

Arms out to the sides

Hands and feet limp

They hang there

Catatonic and unflinching

Life pours from their still bodies

To the dirt

To the tiled roofs

And concrete towers

Streaking windows

Staining clothes

Bouncing off leaves

Slicing apart on blades of grass

Blood runs through the streets and rivers

“Drip, drip, drip,” goes the rain

As he watches on

While the sky bends and screams

Ripping itself asunder

From the wound in reality

Unimaginable horror

Surges down through the air

Infesting the veins

Of our physical plane

In a tide of gleaming teeth and eyes

A black abyss of hunger spills forth

The cities are swallowed

The forests buried alive

There is no resistance

No plan to survive

The bastard spawn

Of fear incarnate

Breathes into being

His establishment—

A newborn form—

Crying and writhing

The birth throes

Rend the surface to ruin

There is no place that lies safe

For the unfortunate few to escape

A nightmare of no end comes for us

Awaits any who dare sleep

To never awaken again

All is lost