World Disorder

Broken, glass-like dreams,
that once reflected all modes
and forms of Beauty,
are scattered across pathways
to the terminus.
Surveillance societies:
Exit doors are closed
to silvery portals of
sweet sanctuary.
Warning signs appear in eyes.
Eyes that are concealed
from us, burn like deadly flames,
through our waking dreams:
dislocated days and nights.
Complex Western codes
penetrate qualities of
Eastern thought patterns.
Bright sound bites of fractured speech:
Media works like
the wine of eerie desires.
Nature normally
abhors vacuums. Yet when all
manner of malign
things rush into replace it,
It stands no chance. Hence, 
its rich, green flow is ceasing,
as black dogs rip up
Time's flesh and devour the light.
Dark needles poison
innocent, young veins at
the drop of a hat.
O let us call it a day!
Draw all the blinds on
The sunbursts of yesterday.
Fallen angels can
no longer be redeemed. They're
lost in labyrinthine
mazes of their own making.
Once their was promise,
but like warm blood, it's congealed,
and turned black. Nothing
can be done; nothing at all.