if it’s not end of days
it sure as shit feels like it

poor Plato
what hope for your Republic now
the modern metropolis looks
for all the world like
a Heavenly city

until your plane lands you
connect and hit the streets
but first they had to
scan every scrap of
your divinely imaged
worthless life to
see if you were
not self-
declared angel of death

then alight from your chariot
(do not forget the Christian charity
of a reasonable tip) and smell
the heady air of
industrialization (where
would our lives be without
that transformation?)

so much achieved there can be
no return, no going back
ah! you forgot the strangeness
of our love, the nuclear
way it is
we all connect

the flash of light that we expect
believing it will
never come (so then
why did we go em cee ee
in the first place?)
it will
as certain by our dark human truth
as if it were a law of physics

that light that cloud you
think God and
someone clever jumpstarted Him
anxious for a
revelation (belated destruction
so much better
than none)
your mysticism could not be
more pragmatic, more
one-
size-fits all assembly line model)

so much bad stuff in
the air were
best you should try to
cough it up

rough it out: souls so
soulless — why should we
think they are headed anywhere?

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