2/27/07 Insatiable darkness is bordered and marked by burning reds. [Turn your collar to the wind, it isn't hard to see this is the end] Swirling billows of silver smoke decay in the sharp winter air. [We've all seen it coming, but until now, no one seemed to care] An endothermic conflagration: spires of flames emit snow. [The precipitants of the tempest, science has yet to show] Void of remaining fodder, the blaze carries on at full force. [In the dim flicker of candle light, fiction and reality divorce] Slowly over the stirring waters we float to our uncharted bourn. [We're sailors sailing straight into a red skied morn] Make no motion to hoist the ketch, yawl, or mizen. [Look out your window, dear, Hell's on the horizon...]
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