the passion of perdition.

enter sedition.
and they,
thwarting few pockets
of passionate resistance,
and grossly underestimating
our complete displeasure,
all but hand the world over.

civil disobedience is ultimately
much more beautiful
than the swollen, setting sun.
hand in hand, hand to hand
we pass the shells
like a quarter mile relay.

and they being cowards
and we being brave
bring a timely color
to an otherwise transparent world
with cocktails and songbird songs.

consumed by the hate,
welcome to the end:
nothing will fucking remain.