Big Bang

The world ends
This is bad poetry
You’re hopelessly self conscious
You think the world has begun again
And then it ends again
constant cycle
Over and over
But with each wash it fades a little
It becomes a little more clean
Clumsy analogies and mixed metaphors
But what can you do?
And are you doing enough?
What do you want to do?
You want them back. All of them
But that’s not an option because they don’t want to come back
They are happier where they are
So you sit and you wait
And you mourn
And time passes slowly but there’s also not much time left
Your world keeps ending and beginning again
And again
Cacophonous big bangs. And silent ones too
Your laundry is clean now. It’s been folded. It’s ready for pick up
You feel no more again
You feel like yourself again.