The Rapture comes and goes unannounced
in carbonated soda bubbles spicing the air.
PPPPHHHHHPPPPHHHWWW
Cities don't matter anymore. Only light matters.
We're all alive but there is death everywhere.
It's all over us like a stink.
The loudspeaker says
we are birthed in rhythm with death.
Your heart is the backbeat.
This is sweet knowledge.
Sweet runny wisdom,
dirty like VHS porn.
Truth is slippery,
it can't be held.
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The first topical poem I've written in six years
"Your heartbeat is the backbeat." Beautiful.
I think we're all feeling a little apocalyptic these days.
"Your heartbeat is the backbeat." Beautiful.
I think we're all feeling a little apocalyptic these days.
I'll third what Frankie said. And I'll raise her one "truth is slippery", because it sure as hell is. *
Great lines, “we are birthed in rhythm with death,” and “Sweet runny wisdom, dirty like VHS porn.” Nice nice.