Why would the apocalypse scribble over his own epitaph?
Patterns. Jumbled words. Half sentences. A group of exclamation marks clubbed with commas and back slashes. Sketches of ribbons, cakes and knives. All done to preserve memories of the dead. And the living, what happened to the living.
Concern is always for the living. Population. Pollution. Menopause. Injuries. Crime. Law. Sex. You name it and it is defined for the living. The living then mourns for the dead. The dead, who would not trouble at all. Yet, they are unwelcome. Birth is welcome.
“What is birth?
Birth is a beneficial outcast”, muttered the apocalypse, still drawing graffiti and motifs on his tombstone.
A lone man staring at the apocalypse wonders the reason for his stupidity. Could he have been a vagabond all his life?A crippled beggar smoking a discarded cigarette wonders if the apocalypse was hurt all his life.A heartbroken singer wonders if it was his own end that he was witnessing in front of him.A rich man did not notice the apocalypse, a poor farmer did.
People come by and have been noticing the apocalypse for centuries. They still do. They just notice, failing to know.
It has been since the birth of mankind that the apocalypse is shouting, “Kill birth and give birth to death.”
thoughts... deep but free 