The sound echoes along the walls, slithering down some age-old carpeted hallway
Voices raised high, enhanced by whatever substance would make it a more interesting day
Red drapes, fog seeping from underneath swept away only to open up into a smoke shrouded room
Spirits dance through the air floating on invitations to the dark side of the moon
Bass ripples through the floor, ghosts of faces future stand everywhere I look
With the usual elixir in hand, it appears only a scene from a normal chapter in a very common book
Take a drag as my eyes glaze over watching the horrendously boring screen
Hardly lucid from lack of sleep thinking maybe I can get away without being seen
But someone, somewhere, flipped an hourglass filled with the sands of fate
Fine-tuned and carefully calibrated, many years this invisible hand had to wait
Sitting quietly backstage, it sewed the cloth of time waiting for tectonic plates to shift,
Until fault lines cracked and the never-ending waves of the tsunami poured in
Trains headed westbound with an estimated arrival to the most unexpected place
Ready to mark unscathed skin with the ink of a tattoo that can never erased
Caught in the eye of a tornado, Dorothy on her knees selling her last penny to get back home
Bargaining with the same martyrs who will pin you to the stake just like they did Joan
Clouds roll in overhead, acid rain pouring down from the ceiling in copious amounts
Soot sneaking into my skin, ash deep in my lungs, my body dissipating into radioactive fallout
Awfully strange to recount battles never won, treaties never signed
Retelling war stories in my own cursed words, my election campaign unfairly maligned