Khaki

Chaos be the day that my rage sublimates, and leaves my flaxen shell.
When reality contorts under the strain of thoughts to actions turned.
The sky shall of exhaustion crack; from every seething wound shall pour
A holocaust; a Jokulhlaup of acid; dissolving what flesh’s unburned.

A molten avalanche from every earthly orifice shall spew.
Saluting the ascension of my mind to bodies’ concrete realm.
And dying cries, euphonious, will sing the praise of my revenge:
That it has finally emerged from that sarcophagus in which it dwelled.

But no. Delusions all! Reality’s far blander than my dreams.

For ad infinitum my khaki cloak contains
What otherwise would soak the earth with bloody rain.