it
is
perhaps
Dinosauria, we
that
gets
me
most
of
all
with
how
undeniable
it’s
truth
is

we have no choice,
no freedom,
at birth
we are simply
******
into this world
and told to deal
with it
whatever it may
be

and this world
is dying.
this world
is cursed to be
blown up
by men
who have no ears
for what we
have to
say.

this is not some
grim prophecy,
bukowski nor I
come out of the desert,
beard long and
eyes grown shut with
age,
and insist to you
that the end is
near

I fear,
but I suspect
he does
not,
that one day
soon
the universe
will sit in smug
silence
making jokes
amongst the stars
about the cute
little primates
that thought they
could make
it