yall ever just feel like the world is ending in smoke and fire and salty waves that could knock out skyscrapers if there were any left, here. That thick sickly green smog is settling low over the ruins suffocating whatever roaches have scuttled their way to the end. That you're not the last one but you're the last one /here/ and wish you werent alone so deeply it seeps low through flesh and makes it home in your bones. That if you have to die so soon you could at least have someone to hold and be held in return. That you could love in such an earth shattering never-ending way that would make dying feel like falling asleep, like coming home, as long as you did it with them. As long as you were together. That thousands of years from now scientists would find your skeletons wrapped around eachother and the gentle tragedy of it would cave their chests in. They won't, though. They will find you curled up and alone. They will know your last few days were spent begging for someone else to just /be/ there, for this to just end already, for love, even. Maybe they would know that angry tears pool in you eyes and cling to your lashes as you beg the universe to end this seemingly infinite surrealist limbo. The end is coming soon and you know deep in your stomach there is nothing you can do but /wait/. There is nothing to be done, no one to hold, no one to card their fingers through your hair, no one to hear the whisper of your last words. At the end of the world there is only bone crushing lonliness