Think of a room with No center, only corners. Anonymous space; Corridors endless, Everything angled. Airplane Terminal. Here is Where I’ve spent the last Four
The clatter of the Guillotine is replaced by Democracy’s din.
If you predicted The world would end in flame, Congratulations. (Photo of Portland’s skies from reddit)
Iniquity, a Hot wind, your eyes blur with tears, Your home invaded.
The deluded find Delight in devastation; The lucid bring light.
Shamshael descended to the earth wreathed in fire, slamming into the town square. He raised the flaming sword above his head. The crowd surrounding him