I see a shredded sky, the ripple of what has come and the pain of what was. I didn’t see the chasm before the fall. I don’t know the dreams or why they stall.
There is a free fall of dreams and loss of life. I see the spiral coming, the turn and wickedness spins. It calls out my name.
Things are falling like bombs over Syria. Hell has fallen upon the world of fake and plastic men. It stirs and wakes the dead. I see the freaks and zombies pushing their buttons.
The graphic and ruthless tyrants want the pain, the raisin in the sun dries until its dust and falls down the rabbit hole waiting for Alice to chase it.
Things are not what they were and have stopped the pain of the chasm of loss.