i look at you

 cw for vomit ment, bugs, gore (?), body horror, overall themes of apocalypse

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the humans bit back their bile,
and the bugs choked on their own exoskeletons,
twitching,
crumpled,

and the deer drug themselves on broken limbs
to die in some peaceful corner as the world around them roared

the sun blotted out and the moon wept,
because the sun was her only friend

the ground shook and Disdain crawled from the cracks the Fear left
water became fire, and fire became mud,
and the ocean became thirsty,
and drank from the throats of those bared them

the stars danced and sang and cackled wickedly, because in reality
they had waited for this

a special kind of release

pangea watched as everything she created was destroyed, over and over, and she said nothing.

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i feel like this one is lacking in some ways, but i can't put my finger on it. is it too dramatic, too vague? does it sound too edgy? i can't really decide, but i think some of the imagery came out okay. i'm torn on the last line; i wanted to write "she wept", but i wanted to give her this air of disconnect from this situation. like, everyone is screaming and the whole rest of the poem is supposed to feel loud, but pangea is supposed to feel quiet. disconnect isn't the right word either. anyways, since i didn't end up using "wept" at the end of the final line, i put it in the moon line instead, which was originally supposed to say sobbed. i think i might rework this one over time.

my bedroom window is one of the biggest in the house. it overlooks our backyard. behind our backyard is a small strip of forestry. you can see patches of the road and streetlights on the other side.

someday i'm gonna look out there and someone's gonna be standing out there or something

sometimes
in the middle of winter
i begin to believe i'm glimpsing into
an afterlife
or a dream
because the world is silent and muffled
but something echoes from
the other side of town
and everything is white and grey
and there is nothing but then
and there

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i watch her
as she sinks
but keeps swimming to the top
i smile
until one day
we have to hold her down

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my knuckles are bruised
that's the way i like them
fuck if they're untouched i'll punch
the walls
they oughtta be purple

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laying in an alley
in Chicago
drunk off his ass
bruised and very bloody
unable to move
ah yes
the american dream

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something about teeth
the allure of
grinding them into the cement
without restrain