A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth
Worth Dying Once or Twice
Apostate of apostasy, an apostasis
The kernels all shriveled in the heat of the reaper’s threshing knife, an apostle of apocalypse
And they are, and we were-
Dust in the wind
All we are is
Water and protein, mixed and muddled with muddy dreams, prayers cracked through dry lips for the satisfaction of restless hips, hills of flesh to die on, like a battleground of Armageddon, and you belted out self effacing hymns as I tried to shriek over the manic chatter of heartless angels “I am alive! I lived!”
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