deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Doomsday Clock
What is youth but a false sense of security:
a fantasy...
shattered by the increasing years.
And what will the memory of love do...
ultimately...
but help to cosy us into a grave.
No action is immune to the absurd,
or the brutality of reduction
in the rapine ebb of amenity.
The carnage fulcrum has been crossed
beyond the butcher's block... of holocaust.
90 seconds to midnight.
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