There is life and death

There is life and death

Blood and dust

Love and lust,

Curled up

In dark corners.

Crumbling buildings

Cling onto the earth like limpets

Souring the landscape

Homes for rotting corpses

Piled high with the grief

Of bitter banshees.

The smell of coffee

Is an aphrodisiac

When the sky is afire

The sun, a soulless visitor

Over war-torn battlements.

Nothing really matters

The compass of morality

Is skewed

Too many fat cats purr

Over warm milk

Preening wet whiskers

Counting themselves lucky

To be one step removed

From the everyday.

Newsprint is by design

A forgotten medium

Mayhem plays out

Quietly

In the background.

Flat screens are Androids

Avatars dressed as victims

Fall with the touch

Of a button.

Espresso machines

Work their magic

Steampunk is a retrospective

And nothing can happen

Without the ending of worlds.