this post-apocalyptic wasteland

Are we breathing through collapsed lungs,

functioning on corrupted livers

and our pulse palpitating through bleeding hearts?

Have we been here before?

Maybe we all have died

and this is our dead bodies we’re trapped in

still lingering in this wasteland.

What were we before

and what were we made of?

Why are we still here?

Is this our purgatory

and are we merely waiting

for another onslaught?

What are we still doing here?

Where have we been

and what have we seen?

Where do we find solace

or is there none?

Maybe we only fool ourselves into thinking

we are capable of finding peace.

What did we do yesterday?

What do we do now?

What do we do tomorrow?

Where do we find the oasis in this barren land

called the human condition.

How can holy waters exist in dunes?

Is the meaning of life to be found

or is it a fairy tale

being told to us every night

so we can keep ourselves from searching

for Atlantis or El Dorado

and so that we may keep ourselves still

because we are bound to be restless.

More a lie than it is a tale,

placebos are embedded in our heads,

being force-fed into our brains

so we may calm our chaos within.

What do we do if it rains

in this godforsaken terrain?

Would that be our oasis?

Would that quench our thirst?

Are we waiting for the end times once again

to wash away our sins and expectations

only to rebuild another world,

to rebuild on the shoulders of Armageddon

so we may welcome

what we call another Genesis

when in truth,

is nothing but

a new kind of inferno.