The horrors aren't so horrid.

It's not healthy, I know it's not,
to wish the world was faced with
this collapse -
but, I feel it would be a comfort.
After all, I've always chased
safety, yet never secured it;
perfectly comfortable with
the temporary illusion,
the knowing I may never
find a permanent home.

The inclination bites:
to run, run, run,
to gamble with a life I never
was keen on keeping.
Wait for luck.
Wait for opportunity.
Wait to die.

Friends never last a season;
surviving due to skills
trauma forced us to learn.

We'd move until our bones
would ache and even then,
we'd pray for sweet release,
even though we're not
spiritual in any way.

And sometimes, I dream of
this, of this finding and separation
and watching humanity die,

and I feel the heaviness
of guilt settle in my heart

until I realize,

none of this matters.

Will any of it ever matter?

_____________________________

Written while playing The Walking Dead game and listening to this song from it:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDK9jsQ5itA