Tristan Robert Lange
Inward Bound
The imps of impotence
Are immolated
In the carnival of incompetence.
Cannibal carnivores—
Carnies with sharp
Charades—
Serrated blades
Bent sinfully south—
Resting in Satan’s mouth—
Inverted sinward.
All hell is bound inward—
An indomitable inferno
Within the snowflakes
That make up a blizzard.
The lava piles high
In powedered pumice.
The afterglow melts
In monotonous minds
Mirroring a macabre hold
Of malfeasant morals.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, February 26, 2026.
Tittu