They tell me that these ancient apocalypses don't speak about the end of the world
but an affirmation of the world
a world where death has lost its sting.
But the chaos that hovers on the edge of my vision
has a voice and he whispers:
"You can't beat me. You need me."
And I wonder if he's right.
And I think about conversations
about chaos
about creativity
about art.
And I wonder who's got it right.
We are on your couch
not talking
and thinking about death
and how it does, really,
sting.
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