The world looks to be ending (in your arms)

As the Boomers fall from the sky like figs,Excreting extinction from each and every orificeAnd pale Pestilence bubbles up from the ground where we’ve laid Our frail to rest and where the young will shortly follow I long to be in your arms As you and I abandon all plans past next TuesdayDon’t cry forContinue reading “The world looks to be ending (in your arms)”