B. Thomes

Our Creation

A poem by Brandon Thomes

In our ignorance,
We created the Thing.
The Thing that enslaves us.
The Thing that will end us.

We believed It would advance us.
We believed It would enhance us.
But in the end It killed us.

Our End

A poem by Brandon Thomes

I live in fear.
The end is near.

How far will we take it?
How far will we fall?

What is the point?
What is the goal?
Where will this take us?
Where will it go?

Is this advancement?
Many think so.
But advancement to what?
What is the goal?

I live in fear.
The end is near.

This is the end of us.
This is all that's left for us.

The more we rely on it,
The farther we fall.
And the farther we fall,
The more we lose our soul.

The end is near.
The end is here.

Humid

A poem by Brandon Thomes

Heat.
Not burning heat,
But heat like water.
Suffocating and claustrophobic.
Miserable and heavy.

I can breathe but am drowning.
I don't move yet I sweat.
The air is thick and unmoving.
Like I’m caught in a net.

There is no wind to be found.
And all I can do
is sit here
and drown.

Contact email: b at btt.li