'Til Death

‘It’s too bad we couldn’t Hire a vicar’, she said, Her gas mask lit with the dying light Streaking through the destroyed roof.

‘Well I suppose they’ve gone Where all vicars end up’, I reply. She shudders a smile in the winter breeze, ‘At least that’s warmer than here’.

We clasp hands by the burnt slab Of what was once an altar, Letting the moment last a little longer. Complete silence, save for the distant gunshots.

‘Do you take me to be your Lawfully wedded husband, Through sickness, health, chaos, Destruction and the end of the world?’.

‘I do’, she says, putting her arms Around my blood stained shirt. ‘Any objections?’ I ask the empty rows of pews, My voice echoing into nothingness.

We exchange rings made Of paperclips, then embrace. The gunshots draw closer. We share a look. Time to move.

L'appel du vide

‘How far down does it go?’ she asks, her blonde hair hanging down over the edge of the ravine as she peers into the inky darknesss. One push. That’s all it would take. One push and the darkness would swallow her up. Forever.

I snap back to my senses. ‘I don’t know, pretty far I guess. They call it the Grand Canyon for a reason.’ I take a step back. ‘Don’t stand too close to the edge.’

She smiles back at me mischieviously, then starts flailing her arms as if losing her balance, her exaggerated expression forcing a chuckle out of me. She walks back to where I’m standing and stares into the horizon. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but some stars are already visible in the darkening star. We stood there, quietly, at the brink of the end.

‘We should head back’ I say, turning to her.

Her eyes still fixed on the final moments of dusk, she shrugs ‘Yeah, ok’.

The darkness seems to have calmed us, and we silently walk back to the SUV parked on the trail. She buckles up in the passenger seat next to me and I start up the car. As I'm about to move off, she places her hand on mine, the one on the gear stick.

‘Hey’, she smiles, ‘I had a great day’.

Again, I see her tumble down the ravine to certain death. In my mind, she doesn’t even scream,

She’s too shocked.

I smile back, ‘Yeah, it was fun. And tiring. I can’t wait to get back to the hotel’.

She sits back in her seat and closes her eyes as the car starts winding down the trail. ‘Me too. I’m dying for a long shower’

Silence again, for a while. Dying. The word reverberates around my head.

Dying, dying, dead.

At some point she turns on the radio, but I tune it out into background noise. The canyon still looms on our right, the only thing seperating it from us is a thin wooden fence. We had taken a more obscure route, on her insistence, She wanted to avoid the throngs of tourists and have some alone time. And that’s just what we are right now. Alone.

The thought returns with a vengence. Just a slight turn of the wheel. An action that would take a split second. That’s all it would take. That’s all that’s stopping this rental car from plunging to the rocks below. The thin, wooden fence of my own sanity. The endless echo of eternity.

Democracy

As royal heads rolled, parchments wet with inky prose,

man rose to claim sovereignty from God and chose

to rule over himself, himself to rule alone.

Surely it's better for all to decide

what is wrong and what is right.

If man's nature is good and

evil but an aberration.

There will be peace for generations.

Instead there's genocide and mass detention.

Puppet leaders and rigged elections.

Mass produced misery, hate and greed.

Poisoned lakes and burning trees.

Broadcasted lies of things getting better,

whilst the ballot box is as good as a shredder.

With a vote we can turn lead to gold.

The collective voice is right, or so we were told.

Man's heart is not pure, evil not an aberration,

but part of his design, passing through the generations

to now, where drone strikes can destroy

A town of thousands and leave it level.

Man tried to remove God from office

but forgot to remove the devil.