Icarus's blog: "Augurs, Martyrs, and Agnostics"

Acid baked clouds
blistering sundrops through toxic canopy.
That delicate, silky ash you know was someone's home
someone's heart
smeared on every naked patch of skin

What skin is left burns.
What throat is left thirsts, clenches in panic.

Poison.
Shelter.
Fallout.

Can't pass.
Can't sink through this floor.
Warm
and still smoldering
cradled in the pile of holocaust
hallowed cause
hollow
for all the cost.

I'd call this hell if it wasn't yesterday.