dystopian garage trilogy [written 2003-04?]

1.

“bend,” says the wind, “or I will break you.” and no longer can we play games with its tone. the seasons change without consultation and the forecast is a dirge. a swansong being played every half hour on every frequency. the world is alive with its ruin. 

2.

the rain falls like a thousand ice-tipped arrows; falling from a masochistic heaven. my grin tastes the torrent with hungry teeth. “hungry teeth for a hungry world.” says the distorted prophet drowning in the gutter. and now, the wind is newly armed. “bend.” it says, but this time we are immune to its threats. this time, we have our own new armament. or so we may dream. and maybe, this time, the dream is enough?

3.

“oblivion is mythical.” says the gutter-prophet shifting the timber of his voice upward into some sort of prayer. (the tundra, you know, can be so eloquent.) yet, I’m growing weary of quotes from the cold. warmer wisdom could I glean from the lump of rusted chain on the stained concrete floor. oh, but what of the footsteps in the flange? rendered reprehensible by mixing boards of ill-repute. “hardy-fuckin-har.” says the insect voice from the scofflaw intercom speaker. “just read your lines the way they were laser-scalpeled.” it is our duty, after all, to report the truth as it was beaten out of us.