Unending dreams screaming fiercely at the seams of reality, the casualties rise as the machine beckons. A time of reckoning is upon us in our heads, we're all undead. Nuclear powered towers rise from the ashes of tomorrow to light the way for war. Reality seemingly splits rapidly into the travesty of what is and will be the end of a dream that never ends. Heart beats seem bleak to the screams of gears as it rises once more and lowers once more. Visions of tomorrow seem hollow through the life span of a man. Awaking just to realize that the dream was a dream but, also that your life is that dream. The machine beckons as bright flashes light up the night sky one last time, your mind now gone forever into the sorrows of what is and will be tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Ashton James' Poetry Book. (Rename to come.)
PoetryA book which consists of all poetry I have written, will write, and so on.
