Breakfast is always fun out here in the field.
Delicious tumbles and twists.
Death separated by a thin foil shield.
All here could die with the flick of a wrist,
Yet our fun time will never yield.
Against the darkness we close our fist.
.
We giggle and laugh and dance and sing
To make the time go by faster.
We stare at the big blue thing,
Never seeing disaster.
Just a peaceful world sleeping
Without following any master.
.
A pale blue dot in a beam of sunlight
Waiting to meet the rest of the universe.
Like a patient child shining bright,
Never aware of their families curse
That lurks slowly toward them in the night.
There will be no need for a hurse.
YOU ARE READING
The Fullest of Crypts is in the Open Air
PoetryThe complete genocide of the human species in rhyming fashion. 1,558 words.
