Distant

The bearer of evil tiding dwells in a lonely house I know.
I was as far as I could walk when a manhole opened to Hell,
Making the life I live now an extra life where the world ends in fire.
Above the house are clouds that fly tattered and swift across lines of straighter darker trees.
Always the same is this place, when on a fated night there come real stars to fill the upper skies on glossy wires artistically bent.
And then I left, saying good-bye on the edge of the dark, bound to come back to this time in the end.