Instability (a poem)

The end is closer than we think,

the wild-eyed prophet says.

He, who has spent time in psych wards,

sees visions of hellfire at corner stores.

What are these images of demons and flashes of inspiration?

He rehashes a month lost to the

trap doors in his mind.

He’s stable now, but end times will come again

like passing seasons and storm clouds

that dump torrential rains of illness.

(Photo by frankie cordoba on Unsplash)


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