The world is ending and we are lying in a field. The grass, as cold and wet as dogs noses, soaks our backs through our clothes. I don't know if my hair is stood on end from you or the cold. There are comets fragmenting and flailing through the sky, quickly like celestial race car drivers overtaking one another. We pretend they're meteors and this is a date to watch the pereseids. I wonder how long this comet
was teasing the earth for before we could see it? An anvil hanging over humankind's heads; foreshadowing but just out of shot of God's movie.
The world is ending and I'm okay with it. I don't want to live through hard shit anymore. If I'm not the chaos, I don't want it. Not even with you. When the survivalists take to the woods with their guns and supplies I hope they take you with them, a soft touch in the wilderness. But I'm giving you tonight to remember me by, resting underneath a canopy of fire and rocks and wishes for a different outcome,
holding hands before I slip into my memories of the way things were. I wish on every star that you'll be okay. I know I won't be. I don't want to be.
art: caitlin peck
The world is ending and it's because I'm staring into the sky waiting for it to take me in. I want to feel that velvet sky, peaking through a pinprick in the fabric to see into whatever heaven there might be. I don't believe in heaven but maybe when there's no more bodies for me to be reborn into, there'll become a place for our ghosts to colonise? Maybe we exist somewhere in space, extraterrestrially dreaming of starting a new life on another planet. Where would you want to go? To Saturn, to see if you
can slip through the floating orb, engulfed by its soft gasses like a bathbomb dispersing itself through the water. To Mars, to set yourself on fire with the power of the tiny volcanoes in your soul. To Venus, to scry in its pools of water to see what its molecules saw before it made a home in its rocks.
The world is ending and it's taken long enough.
The world is ending and I'm ready to die, to go without a fight, to disappoint the poets before me whose lifeblood was strong enough to stay alive.
The world is ending and I'm not scared of dying, but I am scared of the alternative.
The world is ending and I hope you fight it,
But I won't.
- toni h