Countering with all we've got, but we are outnumbered, outgunned, and alone.
Acrid, pallid, ugly days, evenings, and nights. Nothing much left to keep us, nobody left to hold us,
hear, listen, reply, touch, feel...understand...help. But that's an old story, nauseous and ad nauseam.

An eroded pillar now stands, in Eden's mirror. No flowers, no trees, apples....just thorns, vermin and snakes.

We have been down to the last bullet before all this madness sent us reeling,
fatal spiral, relentless fall, endless cascade. So we can only thrive in allegory, embrace our destiny, and bleed for beatitudes. Spoiled cloak, soiled robe, soaked cloth.