The sky grows heavy
bloated with bile and blood.
Criers brandishing their bells and Macguffins.
Our fates pronounced in the day's butchered swine.
Effervescence expelled into skeletal frames.
Niche messiahs.
The complexities of our realm
bastardized into tropes and memes.
Illuminating, yet casting a greater shadow,
veiling the strains in the flesh and fabric.
Quivering, festering;
their obliteration looming.
They cry and plead,
"Let the libation hold off!"
into the belly of a hollow ewer.
New gods birthed from the gristle of the remains.
