Decadence in Decay Minor

Darkened city street, no cars. The street is lined with lights, about a third of which are on. Even those that are on are flickering mildly in the night. The meager amount of pedestrians huddle from one pool of wan light to the next, always half an eye over their shoulder or to the side. There is a lull in the foot traffic now. A door opens in the side of one building, disgorging heat and light and obnoxious music into the quiet city.

A young man walks out, possibly between twenty and thirty. and, like most of the citizens here, he wears a dark woolen overcoat to his knees. The cold here never leaves. It hasn’t been a true spring in over 17 years and the sun hasn’t really shown its face in over 5 years. and yet, like most of the people here, he doesn’t seem to care. He’s tallish for a young man, and well kept. His should length black hair floats about in the wind that also continually seems to breeze through. It is not a cleaning wind, bringing the smell of soot and alchemy to everyone’s nostrils. Thankfully, the wind seems to carry itself with the same ennui as the populace, and this man is no exception.

He has just left a party in which the young people habitually throw to shake off their shackles of unspeakable depression that threatens to drown each and every one. Others will soon leave for their own reason, but his is unique. He was a holy man once, believing fervently in the doctrine. and then one day the sun never came back. It was a crisis of faith that no ounce of him has ever recovered from. It was not that he worshiped he sun, but he always felt a connection to it. Because of his religious training, he was a fairly intelligent man. He, like everyone else, had seen so many signs. Everyone knew it, and they all behaved differently about it. Some became more pious, others (like him) less so. Most tried not to think about it and by not thinking about it it crushed them slowly to death under its weight. There was no escaping.

The world was ending, and everyone knew it. Most became desperate. Acts of violence and all manner of human evil had manifested itself. The human race had became numb to its own suffering, and thus continued to perpetuate the act. He was lucky his car was still intact when he reached it.

Getting it and sitting down, he looked at the clock on the dashboard. 4:37. AM or PM? He looked at the sky and decided it really didn’t matter.

Chamber the Cartridge

Down beyond these city streets through gutters filled with black debris
In alleys void of any light where nameless things live out sight
Down through the scrapers of the sky past neon words glowing all night
Echoes my name between each car, “Are you happy where you are?”

Blind to this impending fate
We let the world carry our weight
Its back breaks with every mile
But we all live in denial

Can we be saved? Has the damage all been done?
Is it too late to reverse what we’ve become?
A lesson to learn at a crucial point in time
What’s mine was always yours and yours is mine

Let’s go!

And so we carry on each day as if our lives are not so gray
While every breath we take we only suffocate
Brush past a myriad of scenes – a homeless vet crashed
On wall street, a single mom of three, a TV personality

Save us from what we have become tonight
Eyes glazed with distrust, no sense of wrong or right

Can we be saved? Has the damage all been done?
Is it too late to reverse what we’ve become?
A lesson to learn at a crucial point in time
What’s mine was always yours and yours is mine

He gets in the car and drives home.

~ by metathesis on February 19, 2007.

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