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.