• If you could see what I can see from here, outside this shuttles frozen stressed fiberglass window frame.
    If you could feel your fingertips dance and flip from switch to switch engaging engines and machines.
    If you could hear your heartbeat race with shear desire as you reach for what they've wanted all along. Good intentions brought by a falling bomb.
    Red lights flare and wail to warn the crew, of what chaotic havoc will soon ensue.
    I hear you singing but I'm not done bringing the news.
    Tomorrows headlines, "Angels Growing from the Avenues."
    The sky ignites in a fiery midnight sunrise.
    Your eyes can't fight lost in the light of your makers smite.
    A million years of burning in a single night.
    Your blood boils before you melt in to your shoes.
    Your shadow paints the sidewalk a portrait of fallout blues.

    How far will titans fall?
    All the way down, and on their way down, will they plead for mercy, from LA to Jersey? As they bleed out slowly, watching closely for the weak ones to fail hunger for their entrails.
    Men believe! Beasts are slave to the feast.
    Keep your love close but your gun closer.
    I've followed their shadows to the gallows and I've seen the funeral pyres.
    When the curtains fail to fall on the pathetic final act.
    The worst will be revealed as a matter of fact.

    Close your eyes and strike a match.
    Shut your mouth and drop the latch.
    Light a single candle and blanket the mirrors.
    Demons roam the streets tonight
    seeking to consume and spread their blight.
    You will find that in the dark things become clearer.

    Short sharp concussions ring through the streets.
    Muffeled sobs sink behind stifled screams.
    Yesterdays light is still lost in the smoke of the violence.
    *Few people laughed, few people cried, most [people] were silent.*

    *Quote: Robert Oppenheimer; 1965, Interview premier broadcast on "The Decision to Drop the Bomb", NBC special.