catastrophe --
I can always trust
you for an apocalypse
that really pops.
None of these half-
hearted half-moribund
tales that stumble across
acrid post-aced landscapes.
You scrape the scraps
from the bottom of the barrel
and then light it
on fire.
Even the necromancers argue
that you take all the romance
out of the Spanish flu
and Italian emphysema.
I cannot emphasize enough
how the empaths shudder at
your sesame street creeds
Sharing isn't caring when it involves
more scaring and scarring
than the average cocktail
with a molotov wick.
It's another 2 am Thursday
and with you
the week always ends
with a bang.
No comments:
Post a Comment