Poetic response to a poetic response

14 April 2017

Nat Norland responds in kind

Listen to me and do not listen to them

They are rats, scrabbling around in the dirt and the rubbish for a bite to feed on

They are a lonely fart in a hot stuffy room.

They are a disease. A virus. A really bad virus.

Probably the ebola virus.

Or the bubonic plague. That’s a bad one, right?

They are the every virus you ever had.

Also all the ones you haven’t had.

They are pestilence.

They are famine.

They are war.

They are death.

They are the apocalypse.

And when I say the the apocalypse, I don’t just mean the end of the humanity, because, like, we don’t call the death of the dinosaurs an apocalypse and that was surely an extinction on a similar scale to the end of humanity, if not larger.

I don’t even mean the end of the world because for all we know there are aliens out there and the universe will just keep on existing with or without Earth and that doesn’t seem like the whole apocalypse vibe.

I don’t even mean the end of the universe, because for all we know, there could be other universes, there could be other planes of existence, and if you’re going to do an apocalypse, you might as well do it PROPERLY.

So basically, they are the end.

Of everything.

The void.

The alpha and the omega.

When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back.

God help us all.

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Photo credit: Aenne Pallasca