kids

Armageddon is Just a Field of Dirt by Tyler Wood

 

Night created a vacuum,

the world outside vanished,

white walled universe squared

around the kids. The stairs -

sirens – calling reform, they knew.

They wished for silence in the dark.

 

They kissed silently in the dark,

padlocking secrets in their mouths

to be released only in the soft air

of last exhilations. Fear remained,

antagonist to the heart? Hands

wrapped around hands and flesh.

 

A squeek from above jilted hearts

like love. The dark became fear

again, losing its cocoon appeal.

The universe expanded for millenia,

then contracted again, hearts softened.

The eyes stared into each other

 

brown and blue like the earth planet.

Their universe was back to square.

Quiet re-opened an interlocking,

desperatly softer and more concerned.

Seeking hands touchfeel skin

and virgin sense perceptions.

 

The floor beckened like ancient times,

hard capture against the wood grain.

Wind across glass, the only sound,

outside reminding. The staircase quiet

revealed interbody transformations.

There would be no tomorrow.

 

There could be no tomorrow for them,

the kids who sat in the dark

no longer exist. The universe

left the bodies laying quiet

under the dark sky moon

on a land filled with dirt.