Good evening, Sentinels below our dying metropolis.
Seeping into our weeping lives, we forever disturbed.
Life support,
We are awake on the linoleum of the hospital floor
We are awake in the infinite void.
They had come for us.
And my songbird wings ablated in the fire that night
For as I watched my golden compass,
stripped of his laurels,
I knew that it would never be the same.
Surrendered himself before the force of the quarantine,
declared eternal asylum
in those cold brilliant eyes,
and that was the last I saw.
