The wind blew cold right through me
as I headed through the wastes.
Venom coiled around my heart
and tightened as I quickened pace.
Cold flames danced upon the sands.
I spied a herd of camels.
The muffled drones of Satan's choir
called from buried angels.
The stars in Heaven marked me.
They know my name in Hell.
I swear I killed a drifter then,
whose body vanished where it fell.
The air was rank with copper
or blood from shuttered mines.
A moldy skull stared from a ditch,
its fate foretelling mine.
I found an empty mining town,
half swallowed by the earth.
Bleached faces stared from windows,
a sinkhole for a church.
It was staved in like a coffin
so I headed east to Page.
Spectral voices joined
that din of suffering and rage.
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