Dystopia

by R.L. Elledge

Icy slivers
Of ruined frozen livers
Slither
Out her eyes, with black oozing lies
And she shivers
As they slide
Down her sultry spine
And carve
A little white line
Through rounded flesh
That will shrink and stretch
Around protruding bone, offensive and white
like what the moon could have shown
on that fateful night
when stinking blight
lost it’s way back to Hell
got cold and crawled back into it’s shell
and oozed it’s slime
all over our lives
and now it’s what drives these sick machines
because it never dries up and never dies down
and never fades
or slows
or knows
what it does
and is therefore innocent in it’s sweetest sin
It wears a grin, as it goes about the Devil’s work
that it would never occur to think to shirk
as it enjoys it’s job,
to watch and to lurk,
to kill and to rob,
to corrupt
and putrefy
The ripe bodies lain before him,
a Last Supper for the Devil’s deadly dozen,
lounging in the brightest idle mind
that they could find,
at short notice
because it’s go go go
to get ready for the big show
that Mom and Pops have been planning
all of all our lives.
And the show goes like this;
it starts with a kiss and a sweet goodnight
and then a man comes to town to make something right,
but what is wrong?
What did we miss?
What is sick in our town’s lovely song?
Something’s wrong, something’s gone,
can you smell the rot of what I’ve got?
Can you feel the weight fit to break your back
or send a crooked crack
down your skull
during a lull
in the storm
and when did that get here?
Just a minute ago I was dry and warm
and had never tasted fear.
What is wrong? What is there?
I don’t care.
Burn the song and burn the town! Burn them long and burn them down!

Break the kiss,
Breathe in the lies
No more goodnight,
Eat the lips that soon you’ll miss
And open your eyes
For a bloody sight.