It’s almost the end of the year, so a poem called “The End With Wingtips” seems at least a little appropriate, though it’s probably got some darker themes than most people prefer for end of year holiday time period.

I do not know what mood I was in when I wrote this poem, but I do know I’d been binging a lot of Supernatural.

So there you have it. That probably explains it.

The End With Wingtips

Can you hear the end of the world?
It’s right around the corner
with wingtips on its feet
and a silken cravat
and a laugh that rattles the bones in their graves.

Can you hear the end of the world?
Its knees are old and bony,
and with fingertips of brass,
everything it touches
melts away like a flower in a river of lava.

Can you hear the end of the world?
Its empty eyes and empty soul
reflect back our own
as it floats past,
cape swirling round its ethereal form.

Can you hear the end of the world?
It’s right around the corner.