Dark Lung Of The Storm

in deranged sleep I dream of storms

returning from stricken fields

monumentally indifferent

unhindered by moral restraint

at my behest it’ll all be grinded

down to the bare minerals

as the sky reverberates

like forests of gallows

the hillsides are in flames

remnants of past cosmic battles

like iron and rockslide

in the dark lung of the storm

perpetual fluctuations

of a threadbare empire

properly returned to the dirt

like the last of the black glaciers