Natural Spite

After the world ended
I took up my gun.
We settled in cresting ridges
Where the rot hadn’t begun.
And the walls came down
As the black dust spread.
But there we were still free
And, thank god, we had our heads.
Those who fell made craters
In our dark, hallowed-out eyes.
But renewed, we put up new lots
And our new lease became our disguise.
The world had grown still and slow.
I’d finally laid down my gun.
Though the threat was laid low
It didn’t feel like we’d won.
We had our lives
And we had our heads.
But the ghosts of an old world
Haunted the dark under our beds…

Shivers and fever are settling in.
The winter is indulging a chilly shout.
If you’re reading this friend, tread warmly.
It seems Nature has a way of purging
Even the most stubborn of poisons


Lay an Egg

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