The bitter smell of
early on a spring morning.
Artistic perspectives of biblical scenes.
This all leads to
tainted with the stench of energy
and the sounds of elephants on roof tops.
We sneak around like agents on a mission.
We recreate epic battles between neighboring castles.
Odd misplaced characters wage wars
for reasons unknown to them
Their lives being
broken pieces, which inflict pain upon the opposed.
No battle wounds yet,
just the stinging of the fragments.
Most of this is
because of an old friend who still remains
with more history now then ever.
Fueling us with things we need not consume
for these events to take place.
Fighting for no
reason but our own sick pleasure.
Up and down on staircases.
Swords flying through the air.
Piercing screams behind us.
The flashing lights of arcades have blinded us,
and now the sun sets in the distance.
With the soundtrack of the ocean,
we wage war in public
and no one says a thing.
Tongues stained with
remnants of the night.
Brains gone completely numb.
The Aztec deity watches over us as we journey home.
As we return,
no one speaks.
We just listen.
Our broken, battered vessel flies down dark,
paths to our sanctuary.
More Wars being
this time by small armies of
fantastic and strange creatures.
We have fallen into their trap.
This place is
but we feel at home.
We sit comfortably.
Portraits and statues
of ancient gods.
Some still thriving.
Some dead and gone.
Yet their legend lives on
We are too filled and
fueled by adrenaline to sleep.
The collection of monsters does nothing for it.
The broken ship is not ready for another journey,
but we leave anyway.
A much shorter
journey is taken
through tunnels of light and sound.
Again we listen, but not as much.
There is always much more dialogue
between us on these shorter journeys.
As we arrive at our
we ask ourselves, even now, even before then:
“Why do we come here?”
Though we all know the answer:
it is a pointless journey
simply to cause hell in the simple lives
of these mutated and nocturnal beings
that dwell here overnight.
The rulers of this atrocious land only allow them
to come out at night,
to go against their nature,
forced to become creatures of the night.
corridors we walk.
Beams of light,
all being moved by the mutants attacking us.
we come across an idol,
wielding his weapon of choice.
He keeps this place as holy and clean as he possibly can.
Still searching to see him again,
we fear he has been replaced.
On our returning
home for the night,
we speak of past times and recent events.
Once home again,
we dazzle our eyes with moving pictures.
Some we control,
some we cannot.
They are timeless.
We never sleep.
Not on nights like these.