u/DungeonMarshal

Cracked space rock oozing

Acidic mass expanding

Consuming with touch

Future events seen

Grave Robbers from Outer Space

Stupid! Stupid minds!

Edenic planet

Invisible entity

Beware the dark id

Saucer in the park

Klaatu barada nikto

Heed the warning now

Blue atomic fire

Like rent steel girders—his cry

King of the Monsters

Fearsome mutations

The world is now their picnic

Giant ants attack

My dearest April,

I write this letter knowing that you'll never read it. Maybe I'm writing it for myself. I really wasn't surprised when I woke up this morning and you were gone. You vanished before the first rays of sunlight would appear. And I know that I'll never see you again. I suppose I'll have to make peace with that.

I never should have pursued you. You were never really right for me. Do you remember how cold you were when we first met—how you tried to make a fool of me? But in time, you seemed to warm up. In my eyes, you grew more beautiful every day.

Despite your beauty, you were sad. You never thought I noticed, my dear, but I did. You spent many days and nights crying. Oh! How your tears fell. And I was powerless to stop them.

And all at once, you'd be sunny and bright. Warm and welcoming. And just as I was sure that I could love you, you left me. You never even said goodbye.

That's fine. I won't shed a tear. In fact, my dear, perhaps it would surprise you to find out that I've already found another. So, I'll forget all about you, my dear April. And I'll begin my life anew with my beautiful May.

Sincerely,

Your scorned fool—no more

Farmhouse surrounded

Dead hands slap boarded windows

Who will survive? None.

A beggar. A dusty corner. A windblown street.

A rusted can

There at the beggar's feet.

A fiver, some crumpled ones, a quarter or two,

In the rusted can,

By the beggar's shoe.

-

A rich man. A skyscraper. An executive suite.

Exotic leathers

Adorn the rich man's feet.

A Rolex, a Bentley, a beach house upon pure white sand,

All things desired,

In the palm of the rich man's hand.

-

A body. A graveyard. An epitaph in stone.

An elegant box

To hold body and bone.

No can, no Bentley, no mirth.

Only the box,

Beneath six feet of earth.

When the sun turns red and starts to sink.

When shadows flow just like spilled ink.

When you dare not whistle, for fear of being found

By unknown things drawn to the sound.

When the whippoorwill calls to claim a soul.

When merry thoughts turn black as coal.

When cats' eyes shine like glittering emeralds,

And joy and peace are only ephemeral.

When the western sky bleeds,

And nocturnal things feed.

When shades and wraiths freely roam

Within the comfort of the dreary gloam.

Dusk has come.

Dusk has come.

Wait until dawn.