Tomorrow, when the War Begins

Welcome to the Agglomeration

Rider

It's coming
Icy Haze
to steal your teeth
Fiery Finger
and ruin your sleep
Shadow Storms
by releasing the bugs
Nature's Antidote

Our dreams
Rhythmic Cuts
are invaded
Celtic Spirit
by those who walk
Bulbous Venom
among the shades.

He rides
Oncoming Train
He approaches
Distant Telegraph Pole
He is upon us
French Snail
And we don't know
Hungry Men.

The shaman closes his book and
gazes into the audience.
The paper clip is smiling,
the stapler yawning.
In the corner, the calculator commits
electric suicide whilst highlighter
drowns in colourful goldfish tank.

In the middle of the room, there sits a rock.
It remains a rock.

Till next time, may you agglomerate all your unpremeditated contemplations