here comes the apocalypse (original poetry)

You could turn the world upside down

and I’m pretty sure I’d be there,

by your side

not because I want to

but because you asked;

that look on your face

broke my heart

(and you should know by now

my resting bitch face is fake,

flimsy like tissue paper,

enduring like plastic).

I’ve been manipulated

into dealing with

the literal fucking apocalypse

and I’m not sure what scares me more:

knowing everyone I love

is damaged beyond repair,

or worse,

dead without confirmation


spending the rest

of my malnourished days

with you, the energetic jackass

who brought me into this awful situation

“how exactly, pray tell, did the world end”

you ask,

and it’s all too fair of a question to bring up;

the end of the world,

after all,

doesn’t come about often,

you see,

we’re the survivors

the blessed cured chosen few,

beyond the odds

which were defied without much effort (or so it seemed)


and yet, we are still figuring out the nuances

of being the last survivors on Earth.

“How can that be?”

you ask, and you see,

it’s a question even we cannot answer.

You must think we’re



lacking a survival instinct

and that is where you fail…

we’re still here to have you

question all our decisions

…aren’t we?



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