Tripods set alight.
We are the chosen.
Havoc—
Oh, glorious havoc!
Blitz, blitz!
Nuclear detonation to the east, my bones are visible.
The sessions begin anew.
That wretched circus smile.
Yellow teeth.
No one flossed today.
Have it, oh, haVE IT!
Empty malls and swirling Pall Malls.
Load the shells.
Dragon’s breath colors the gray skies.
Precipitation highlights the corpses in the mud.
Barbed wire pricks.
The skin loses its color.
The eyes roll.
She is coming.
The eighth hour.
She is coming.
She has heard your prayers.
And has since then granted—
The finest apocalypse.