Raving Collapse

A Poem by Onoma

Blasts of flint

clash open a flame,

yay: Good--

yay: Evil.

Unwound.

A war of perpetidue,

the air's ground shakes

with hosts.

Raving collapse, of what

cannot see--but is.

Forever sucked upward.

Look out, Upward.

Growling fecal matter,

overwhelmed by purity.

Wishing after abidance.