Andrew

Nocturne

            Awake, life a fervent river, flowing throughout the mans body, the day began anew. The resonance of life in the malevolence that came to be quotidian in this realm, was as frigid waves sapping the heat of the flames of darkness. His consciousness, a dim light, in a ambiance of pitch black desperado. His footsteps, booming, cantankerous screeches upon the ancient silence. His breath, a warm exasperation upon the icy air, his heartbeat, a vociferous drum, beating in the death of the dormant world. His eyes opened to this death. Slits of light casting their glow, his mind grasped at the entirety of the world left to him. In lunacy, this sapient dream perplexed him, it enervated him, it brought life to his aching bones. Tears etched a redness across his face, life in miniscule beads showing themselves to the dread of the darkness. His body broken, beaten, tattered, his mind shattered, he looked to the sky, a conflagration of exotic flames, shades of black and blood stained the night sky as the fire burned, this fire raged on, setting the mans psyche ablaze, remnants of his past gripped him, and for that short time, he was human, but as that moment passed, he resumed his veracity in the barren, forsaken world.  He took his first steps in the forgotten land, his bare feet gnashed against the rubble, his face contorted in angst as the burning ash seared against his worn face. Concrete, glass, sheet metal, building blocks of civilization, rested in ruin, cast to oblivion in the flames of chaos, this world, rested upon a new order, one devised in larceny and duplicity, one fraught with the greed that perpetuated the very civilization it had consigned to destruction. The cries of self proclaimed transcendence pained as forgotten echoes, infernal flames of hate. He trudged across the landscape aimlessly, in hopes that he may designate a purpose in his hell.