The Great Wyrm of the Primer Siglo Veinte

The Great Wyrm of the Primer Siglo Veinte
by Jesse S. Mitchell

God Bless the new millennium,
Everyone is dead.
God Bless the new Messiah,
Everyone is dead.
God Bless all this miasma,
Everything is gone.
We wait outdoors, because that is where the sun will shine. They tell us the truth.
The junk sick princesses make their rounds
With palms pressed out
Waiting for alms
Searching for all those
Fevered words we all left
Burning in other mouths
And lips.
Taking blood from our sides,
Bleeding fingertips.
Waiting outside, from Auchwitz to Nakba day, because that is where they say the sun will shine. The light in our eyes, make us blind.
But we desire intensity
But simplicity.
Not unlike the angels and demons
Of heaven and hell
Who have never known complacency.
Bring me the last followers of the last remaining god
Before dawn.
Waiting perfectly still, never moving, if there is a way, the sun will shine.
It is a perfectly big army.
It is a perfectly proud moment.
But we talk too much,
Maybe too many promises.
Bring before me the last who remain,
Who remain faithful/faithless to
The end.
and
God Bless this end.
We will not move from this spot not ever, waiting, waiting for the sun to shine.