0 to infinity
starts slowly but
exponentially
work smarter work harder
think faster think smarter
wipe your tears and look harder
you’ll see what it means
that it happens so fast
to start seeing signs
start hearing voices
an angel pleading on your shoulder
devil laughing on the other
whispering the same words but
beginning to shout
as the artificial noise drowns out
their divine screams
that we’re about to reach
the singularity

∞

What if writers always write like it’s the end of the world because it always is? What if writers always fail because it’s impossible to capture in words what will be lost? What if each generation writes of happiness as something less than the generation before? What if the end of the world is only the end of the world as we know it, only another stage of our descent into eternal life with no memory of happiness, into the singularity, which I mean to be, quite literally, Hell on Earth?