IT WAS A NIGHT OF BLOOD

It was a night of blood.
From the graves rose the rotting bodies.
They had defied the laws of nature.
As a part of their punishment,
they were ordered to collect the living beings
who had deceived as they had deceived.
They took no prisoners.
There was not a white sheet anywhere
that wasn't covered in blood.

The innocents closed

their eyes in horror.

They never knew

that their fathers

or their mothers

or their husbands

or their wives

or their children

were capable of such heinous behavior.

They averted glancing behind them,

so they wouldn't be turned into salt.

From Sodom and Gomorrah

they ran and never looked back

at those loved ones

whose hearts had been ripped out of them.

I was one of the few condemned

to pay for his transgression

who managed to escape,

but as I live my life on the fringes,

I am covered with scars

and I have wounds that never stop bleeding.

I would have been better off

if I had been slaughtered like all the rest,

but unlike the others

who had delivered themselves to decadence

because they had forsaken their souls.

I had never surrendered

and had kept a hope

that I might still be saved.

I had seen a light before the darkness

had descended upon us

and I was drawn to its purity.

I had never known purity in my life.

From my earliest memories

there had been alcohol, drugs and sex.

There was no peace.

There was only the cheap thrill

to maintain one's sordid passage from day to day.

On the day of the apocalypse,

I was following the light,

which saved me from that frightful fate.

But as I distanced myself

from the carnage behind me,

the light disappeared.

I have sought refuge in a solitary existence.
And each night before I collapse
into my troubled sleep,
I search the skies for the light.
And it's never there.
I will die alone.
My skeleton will vanish
in the spreading sands.