The Vigil of Deathstriped Commando

Deathstriped Commando trudges through metallic wastelands,
Marking vigil in between trash pillars of blood-rust and taint-smoke piling high.
Every day’s duty sent from waste disposal pipes,
Descending from Nuclear War Machine Heaven 1 --
Firstborn waste-god of the Post-Post-Extinction Decades;
Oh how easy it must’ve been to be born in Mystic Eden,
To grow into apocalyptica, before fabricating it Himself
In mud-caked, cum-crusted battle trenches with alien war vessels.

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Deathstriped Commando enters the stage:
Born in atom fire, a black shell swirling amidst mushroom smoke;
Bathed in radiation, wailing cries spreading across twice-burnt plateaus;
Revived in electricity, carried off on the waves of a dead future.
Two-Side Proxy Soldier is manifested.
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Scorching Earth from outer waste-realms,
Napalmed bullet hiveswarms cover the sky in steely blues.
Test tube children clutch their cyanide pills and revel at fireworks
Brightening the nowhere sky; gunpowder raining down in choired Hail Marys.
Toy homunculi bear witness as Nuclear War Machine Heaven 2 cakes them
In mud flung by Heaven First’s tulpa government cabal.

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Deathstriped Commando digs themself into a trench, finding a girl in hiding.
What are you doing here, big girl? Asphalt piercing their lungs.
Soon it would be over. You don’t know when it’ll pass.
They clutch the irradiated dirt in palm rituals. She doesn’t know when she’ll pass.
Regardless, it was nice but time was up. Shells strike their grave.
Daily goal: Survive || Status: Failed || Deathstriped Command burns in hellfire.
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Nuclear War Machine Heavens 1 & 2 face off for another battle
Atop hundreds of layers of chemical ash,
Treading over skulls of thousands of Commandos-To-Be;
Sprouting new mindless soldier drones in a meld of enemy/enemy fire.
Deathstriped Commando stands watch, silent as a radioactive waste baby,
Bracing for impact. Lights fill the horizon in a never-ending War World.
She ponders, can an atom be split back into one?

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6/2021