A tattered boot smashes an old cigarette into dust
My cold eyes are raised to the fire ocean sky
Blackbird soars high
Floating speck but for its voice
Desolate seraphim of mourning songs
Silhouetted on the blue
Perhaps they come from the east with such a shadow
Do kabuki ravens cry in japanese?
Cousin crow circles the elegant roadkill
I circle the heavenly machine
Trying to comprehend how to best strangle it
Your messiah walks on ashes in the furnace
And spits the water I offer him on my (now purified) face
Laughting he realizes
Only the blind can love without bias
So with a yellow claw the crow takes his eyes
And he loves the engine
I however
Still circle
Waiting for the next bit of carcass to feed off of

great description, keep writing.