Apocalypse 18x24" acrylic on poster
The storm reaches its mass,
Clouds rumble and the air thickens,
At first a distant cloud
soon a rumbling sound
heard round.
Yet no ear will it have reached,
No ears left to hear,
Nothing to eat--
One does remain-a tiny deaf stain,
Upon the canvas of this scorched landscape.
She is wound like a tiny knot.
Hands over mouth, eyes burn when open.
Yet she keeps them ajar.
In front of her the world she once knew
--matted grey.
The clouds dark as he hair.
Darkened by time.
Caused by sand and soot.
She will remain there,
Imagining and re-imagining it as it once were,
In this method she remains alive,
Clutching on to what she once knew.
Knowing full well that she is the last,
Cannibalism something of history done and forgotten.
Hands clutched over mouth.
The waves reach her dirty toes
stain her feet the color of soot.
Rolling past the mountains out beyond the sky
The rains begin to fall.
Releasing acid as it plummets to the ground.
Scorching the landscape removing all that is left,
In the worlds sudden end.
Rebirth shall again begin.
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