T H E E N D C O M M U N E

the prophecy speaks of draught,
of death and of doom.

their prodigal hearts were wounded
from the lance of self-critique,
striking hard from the left side of histories!

and they bled the black muck
of their own reprobate wanton.
that is all it came to amount to:

a history of failure and destitution;
tirades of empty moralism, exhibitions
in shallowness, contests in vice and vanity;
glorifications of hedonistic inhibition...

coyness, resolve, constraint, mystery:
all abandoned!―

here is no strife!
here is no sacrifice!

“just we fuck, drink and laugh enough!”

in the end times, only the surface nuisances
of a planet burning at its core seemed interesting―
nothing was real in those last days.