A poem about our end.
Our Epilogue

In a hellish tandem we bled

Until we were dry as old peppers

And picked away by the scavengers,

Or by time itself.


Left were our bones

Flaccid and pale,

Cluelessly upright,

Until at once they weren’t.


Rendered by the knife of fate,

Or our own cruder devices,

We ate each other

Like pigs left without food.


We hope one near to us,

One like us,

Would give in and stop breathing,

Or devolve to something less,


We remain hungry,

Alone and dead anyway,

But now sick,

Wasteful and stupid.


Sitting in our apocalypse

Like dumb children

Floating in circles

In water too deep.


A pile of bones,

In a fetid sea.

Drifting without purpose

Like an anachronism of silly life.