Would you like to become Dante's Companion in his grim cathode,
following our tunnels to our subterranean covert
This concrete shelter is our nest now,
a beautiful vase without a flower.
We left above us a dark
seeded with the shattered limbs of yesterday.
The electric fire is the breath of our god
and its murmuring sound,
We are hostages with no escaping pod to return to our home.
Pretending there is nothing to
no monster in the closet to haunt us for the errors of our
We left above us a minefield,
seeded with the
shattered limbs of yesterday.
It is our gift for the cockroaches,
an infrared place to lay their little