I saw war machines between the clouds
and while the sky was burning
people on the ground were living carelessly,
ignoring the Apocalypse above.

I saw a madman hysterically laughing and dancing
amongst  people with bleeding smiles
and I, as one of them,
was wandering by the river,
watching, listening,
not knowing if anything was real.

(A stranger took a picture of me
and I felt pretty.)

Then finding myself in the middle of nowhere
I saw demons burning everything I owned
—a poem, a dress, and your picture—
My legs frightened running and running and running
until my body touched the ground.
Breathless, suffocating,
I knew then
that it was the end.