Burning: a Dream In Madness

Burning snow falls quietly on cold rusted wire and brittle bone. An ancient creature looks to the horizon feeling is body built of razor wire and old bones, cold, a delicate tone transmits from on far... Wraiths walking in the burning snows depths, as it falls, it drifts... In eyes buried burning bright, across this delicate armature of wire and bone skeletal hands clutch. Bloody foot falls leaving no footprints, upon the burning snow lies cinders of stars. Transversing transcending reflecting in a vast landscape of desolation. While ash gray clouds drift on oceans of spirits they race, undulate flow to rhythms eternal. In frustration and rage as brittle fingers trace, each a wreckage of eons past like broken fine china ruined in department malls, dead cars and neon bars. Alone in shopping marts eyes of the damned... Faces blistering burning bright listening to black concertos in dead concert halls as eons fall. Someone something ethereally framed by elections runs glistening bright... A silhouetted figure in distance thunderstorms, lightning wreaths it fragile face it walks among the ruins the wreckage of rage in ancient graves, Insane dominions blaze... A boney fingers trace secretly a wooden oblong box full of oblivion and infinite, feel the burnt primordial clock, a face still cracked bold but keeps the time as death comes as memory of all is lost. As mortality is crucified on wire and bone a thin delicate in tone resonates in grace. Walking still onward in the burning snow feeling the drifting imagery, cascading across its face, an armature of wire and bone walking forever in foot falls of time as it falls apart sublime. In the darkening cityscape lightning filigree fragile and frets. Alone on horizons distance edge lingers an oblique and obsolete monstrosity it drifts in the burning snow forever alone in the forever more...