moonangel poetry Poet Free verse

When the World Will Waste

Sometimes I feel as if the world will end tomorrow. 
I feel the soil will rattle as the oceans awaken in a parasitic rage of humanity. 
I feel the doom of our existence dancing in a graceful fragility on the tip of our tongues. 
I feel the tender denial of death will wrap its cold limbs around us and inhale the sin of our souls.
The fire and the water will no longer engage in an endless battle of elemental pride. 
The trees and the dirt will rip off the path we forget to worship; a farewell of forged purification.
The horrors of humanity will rise in a price no virtue can bind to pay.
The sacrificial redundance of good, a waste to the bloodsuckers of skin. 
The goosebumps fight my heartbeat’s resistance to live.
My screams fight the water’s thirst to consume my gurgles.
The flail of my arms fight the world’s desire to strip my soul away.
As the salt swallows me whole,
As the cold drowns me in its void,
As my soul sacrifices to the rage,
I will call your name.<

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