Eve Of

A quisling The end of days rots just his boot

He survives

I smell him near

Crimes uncanny strewn

Cut his throat and steal his water

Bleed!

Urn oven sundown

Vapor lock

In the heat dome

Final call

Sleep at day

Crawl at night

Release him

So now?

Restrain him!

These plains ablaze!

The matrix…

Enflamed!