Rooster’s Balls at the End of the World

The rooster has gone mad with hysteria

As the waves of terror unravel.

He calls upon an army

Not for the morning bejewel—

Roosting in the nights,

as his feet pirouettes on fire—

The rooster calls as the earth crumbles

A plea for the undead, a prayer for the alive

The world shrivel and crumble

A snail poisoning itself with salt

Hydrated, moisturized,

ready for the end of the world.

Morning or night, morning and night

The heat says a different story,

A mad frenzy, as the rooster looses sanity

Crowing as he mulls over the time of the day

Spiralling, crying —

Unknown,

But certain that his balls are on fire

Closer to the end of the world