A Hungry Mouth

Up north, by the Artic Sea, I watch the skies.

Aliens or missiles may rain down on us now.

All night, I watch for them to come, lidless eye.


Aliens or our own wars, or demons rising up.

I felt something in my thoughts, so cold, so dark.

It’s night all day in winter, and I praise all shadows.


The sky is endless, and I feel it watching me now,

even in my bunker and without any dream sleep.

There’s no where to hide here. No mountains’ shame.


Stars are dead, worse than demons, useless light now.

Aliens or demons or wars may wipe us all away now.

I once dreamed of love and life. I was such a fool then.


The sky, a hungry mouth, never fed but upon our deaths.

I keep the picture of a fashion model, beautiful and cold.

I touch her face sometimes, but we will all be wiped away.


I’ll see it coming, but I won’t be able to stop it. Satan always wins.

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