Poetry | Dooming
I’m a Doomer
I’m a doomer.
I’ll admit it, I’ll stand by what I said
I should be a carpenter, a plumber or a truckdriver instead
But part of me wants to see the world burn
It’ll end things you see, the way that we’ve been,
When I doom, I find peace, it’s how I purge my secret sin.
Of me being comfortable — but hating the cost
Of devouring our planet till it’s completely lost.
There isn’t a middle ground.
In the meantime, I sit, write, pontificate
Coughing as wild smoke wrecks my brain
I can’t drink the water, Can’t even eat the damned fish,
and there’s PFAS in the fucking rain.
Why are we still working?
Seriously? Tell me again?
I’m a Doomer. I’m eating the planet and asking you why
we slap green lipstick on planet eating and tell renewable lies
Pretending to pay carbon taxes in nickels and dimes.
But we both know we can’t stop. We won’t stop (in time).
