Self-Destruct Sequence

It begins with the push of a button,
That glowing red sphere
That calls the fingers near
And provides the only light
In darkness so total,
There never was a sun.

Once committed to nihilation,
The sequence commences
With tiny things designed
For stealth, for mustard-seed growth.

The spin begins slowly--
A dervish always begins
With a leisurely turn of foot and hip,
His colorful skirts merely waft
Lazily on the air.

Gradually the drinks find their mark,
The opiates flow into the needle,
The bodies jam together with urgency
Born of need and want,
The cigarettes send endless
Spirals of smoke to heaven,
The blades cut deeper than skin,
The tempo grows faster than sin
Penetrating the consciousness
That is fading to animal instinct again.

The revolutions per minute
Exceed the millions in a downward spiral
Of time going awry, of blood-spatter
On white walls, of breaths sucked in
Shallower and shallower,
Of the world blurring
Into one throbbing black mass
Eating away all color,
Exsanguinating joy,
Erasing all boundaries
Between life and death.

Living and dying are the same thing now,
They are a continuum that become
A natural transition, a grave arpeggio
Dropping from allegro to adagio,
Rising from decrescendo to crescendo,
Going full tinto negro from chiarscuro,

Falling dismally at the end
Of the soaring grand jete
Into a profound arabesque
Heaving on the brink of collapse.

The sequence completes itself
With a blank stare, a catatonia,
An emptiness that is washed of all color
And verve, of all radiance and sound,
Of frenzied speed and lost grace
That all come to a sudden, full stop.

There is no telling
If the world will reboot
Once the sequence is over.