SUN SETTING

xxii.

THE ANGELS HAVE FALLEN (THEIR HALOS BROKEN PIECES COVERED IN DRIED GLUE AND DUCT TAPE STUFFED UNDERNEATH SCRATCHY MATTRESSES.)

THE ANGELS HAVE FALLEN (THEIR WINGS BURNT TO ASHES DANCE IN THEIR MEMORIES AS THEY STARE LONGINGLY INTO FLICKERING FLAMES.)

THE ANGELS HAVE FALLEN (THEIR PRISTINE ROBES TRADED FOR LEATHER JACKETS AND CRIMSON SCRAPES DECORATING THEIR BODIES.)

THE ANGELS HAVE FALLEN (THEIR GRACE TURNED INTO GAS AND FUEL AND ALL THEY CAN DO IS GUZZLE THE BURNING ALCOHOL DOWN THEIR THROATS.)

THE ANGELS HAVE FALLEN AND HOW HARD THEY'VE FALLEN. WARRIORS THAT RAINED FROM THE SKY, CELESTIAL POWER LEAKING FROM THEIR DIVINE SOULS, NOW DRUNKEN SOLDIERS WITH A HUMAN HEART AS THEIR LIPS SPELL INSULTS IN THE DIZZY ATMOSPHERE OF LINED TEQUILA AND WHISKY.

THE ANGELS HAVE FALLEN AND THEY ROAM THE STREETS, KINGS AND QUEENS OF THE MERCILESS NIGHT. DARK ALLEYWAYS THEIR NEWFOUND EMPIRES, THEY DECORATE THE DAMP COBBLESTONES WITH BLOOD AND WELL EARNED VICTORY.

THE ANGELS HAVE FALLEN AND IN THEIR HUMANE STATE, THEY CANNOT FIND THE HEART TO CARE. THEY KNEW IT WAS COMING, WHEN STAR STUFF TURNED TO DUST, WHEN THE HEAVENS SLOWLY COLLAPSED UNDER THE WEIGHT OF NONBELIEVERS, WHEN THEIR MEMORY IS NOTHING BUT AN ASHY LOG ON A BURNING PYRE. THE ANGELS HAVE FALLEN, NOW MORTAL THOUGHTS DANCE SEARINGLY ACROSS THEIR BRAINS.

THE ANGELS HAVE FALLEN SO WHAT CAN THEY DO
BUT JOIN THE ROTTING EXISTENCE OF HUMANITY?

— blood adorns the knuckles of angelic beings