Poem: doomsday again

and on the morning when you finally awoke to the world,

your cigarette grin, your dusty dreams, your own private haze,

the terrible malaise…

there was nothing that could be done.

a shotgun chagrin and the end of that world had

already begun.

nothing more to be done. not much else to say. at least not for today.

back to bed then, leave hope at the door.

leave an…