Wayne Russell is a creative writer born and raised in Florida, and, even though his travels have carried him around the world, some strange force keeps pulling him back again. He has been published in Nomadic Voices Magazine, Zaira Journal, The Bitchin' Kitschs', and others.
The Grand Finale (nothing matters)
We are just the mist of mirror imaged foes,
a metamorphosis smashing into cruel mirrors
of time, slipping into the sin, the infused and
radiant carcass of radiant bejeweled; a belligerent
spine, creaking.
And a blinding sun shall claim us all, on that day
unbeknownst to us all, when all the hatred ceases
to be.
When the bomb drops, and the colors all fade into
one, when a little spatter of red is written upon the
wall of ingestion.
A suicide pact is written between our blessed Savior
and all the religions of this world, 3rd rock held within
strangle hold of the grand finale~
a death wish granted~
the finality of Armageddon BOOM!
You are all gone!
There is nothing left to hate~
farewell~
farewell.
~Wayne Russell
The Grand Finale (nothing matters)
We are just the mist of mirror imaged foes,
a metamorphosis smashing into cruel mirrors
of time, slipping into the sin, the infused and
radiant carcass of radiant bejeweled; a belligerent
spine, creaking.
And a blinding sun shall claim us all, on that day
unbeknownst to us all, when all the hatred ceases
to be.
When the bomb drops, and the colors all fade into
one, when a little spatter of red is written upon the
wall of ingestion.
A suicide pact is written between our blessed Savior
and all the religions of this world, 3rd rock held within
strangle hold of the grand finale~
a death wish granted~
the finality of Armageddon BOOM!
You are all gone!
There is nothing left to hate~
farewell~
farewell.
~Wayne Russell