Published April 2014
Apocalypse later
by Alison Ross
In the kitchens of infinity
they are cooking up the apocalypse -
a dash of doom,
the spices of gloom,
then the morbid soup
is ready to consume.
In the dancehalls of eternity
they are doing the apocalypso -
the palm trees swaying to the tunes
of tropical terror.
they are doing the apocalypso -
the palm trees swaying to the tunes
of tropical terror.
In the showers of the apocalypse
they are washing off all traces of infinity.
But infinity has tattooed itself
onto the biceps of oblivion.
they are washing off all traces of infinity.
But infinity has tattooed itself
onto the biceps of oblivion.
In the bedrooms of forever,
the apocalypse takes a nap.
the apocalypse takes a nap.
No comments:
Post a Comment