The sky is always
so perfect.
The birds are chirping,
the clouds are making
smiley faces,
the sun
feels so warm
and peaceful.
Everything is just so
wonderfully magnificent.
This is when
death
shows us
his face.
This is when
those
that are closest
to us
are ripped
from our lives.
And everything
still looks perfect.
I don't see
how that is.
But it is.
We have no choice.
We are here
to suffer
through the
most splendid
of days.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Apocawha??
Man
often thinks
of the
End.
Where everything is
dead
or dying
or drowning
in an endless sea
of rotting flesh
and filth.
He prepares
everyday
for this
demise.
Completely forgetting
about how
blessed
he really is,
to be above
dirt
and breathing
and singing
out of his own ass.
Everything
is perfect.
Immaculate.
His only vision
is of
the great death.
Such sights
ruin
his life.
His family's,
even his dog's.
However,
these preparations
are short lived.
The truth is,
there is no
end.
All time
cannot be wasted.
Every once in awhile,
he will have to drink.
In that moment,
he'll forget,
if only
for a moment,
about anything
to do
with the apocalypse.
And just simply,
enjoy his lemonade.
That's when,
God
will come down
on a golden pig
with massive wings
that will block out
the sun
and swoop down
and knock over
his drink
onto
his lap.
For him,
another step
closer
to the end.
For God,
and everyone else,
another laugh
at his expense.
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