New World (Part 9) – A Poetry Journal

6-13-22

And what if the apocalypse comes? Do we not deserve it? Have we not been traveling down this path for a very long time? I think of this often, and I believe there may even be sweetness in the flames that will consume us.

But this is beside the point. What is the point? That something is coming. Call it prophecy; call it what you will. I get the feeling everyone knows, though some are pushing it out of their mind.

It shows up in the way people speak, the pauses between speech, the little tics on their faces, and the nervousness and wildness in our eyes. It shows up in the internet sickness that is gripping the world, tethered to social media and doom-loops that instantaneously feed us violence and controversy.

There’s no escaping it, don’t you think? I think we like it.

Breakdown or transformation or muddling along the current path of societal decay. A wildfire burns in so many hearts and minds. A symphony of hellish screams, primal and erotic.

An explosion. And then, a whimper. And then, cast into a void, falling into the bottomless pit of God’s dark heart. Where we belong.

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