End Times

I love a good doomsday scenario,
But I prefer mine served
On a bed of cooled lava
And drizzled in sulphuric rain.

I want to see a meteor crash
Violently into the horizon.
I want weeds to take over.

Highways of kudzu,
Parking lots of new forest,
Radioactive cesspools of oceans.

Boiling rivers,
Buckling pavement,
Brimstone faucets.

I have considered Christians
Shooting through ceiling tiles
And doe-eyed virgins ascending to
Islamic bedrooms.

I’ve envisioned angels directing traffic,
Lines of grown men waiting in line
To sit on God’s lap on a cumulus cloud.
It doesn’t appeal to me.

I’d much prefer to drop dead in good company.
Bash my head on the bathroom wall
When the shockwave hits.
Go when everybody else does.

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