The World Is Ending On Your Birthday
It's your birthday, December twenty first
make a wish
let the candelabras burn an inch
something precious
in the morning, evening kiss
you've always longed for.
Pray beneath the mistletoe, adorned
grab your popcorn
the couch besides the window looks so grand
take a peek
with a smack of lips on buttery fingers, *prang!*
there goes the earthly orb.
Park your derriere mid-chew
enjoy
the riots, panicked, raving loons
peering out
with that last piece of popcorn in your mouth
hear those shouts
that the world is ending
breathe the fumes
the flames are sending
see the crowds of mental patients cry
the morning after
the
disaster sends the paranoia hangover *High!*
of a cityscape in shreds
sirens resonating with your bed
a good book to send yourself to dream,
it was your birthday today
and you got to listen to the lunatics scream.
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