Midnight Sun

The lingering fragrance of mediocreness
Still stands thick in the red air
A magnet for maggots presuming they belong
While preachers proclaim premonitions
Continuing to insult the rational mind
With all their withering wisdom
And childless wombs of promises
With several thousand open mouths
To feed with all this nonsense
And evolve into an avalanche

And when the day comes
Where the omnivorous midnight sun rises
With no intention so set before all are gone
And you choke on your boldness
And drown in self-sympathy
And burst into nothing but a stench of raw meat
I will be the one preaching
I will be standing on the mountain top
Laughing at my own flaming, slowly dying self
Roaring so loudly that all you can hear is
"Where is your God now?"