terça-feira, 9 de setembro de 2025

The antichrists of the aftermath

 Cities on fire
the antichrists have come
Racing along spacious empty highways
Racing down the length lazer quick

Their legs fly with lightning and tumultuous glow
A thousand miles an hour
Their skin like scales are flicking off
like guitar picks in the dry dismal winds

The swishing of their bodies
sings a song of crashing doom
They grow into great slothful bodies
necks extending and resting against sky scrapers

Wondering whether they can consume survivors
With their sharp silver electric teeth
Whispering in each other's datura shaped ears
fantasizing about fire

confused at the tenacity of the people
their ability to survive the incredible infernos

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