After the last book has been burnt

After the last book has been burnt,

We will turn to insanity for comfort

After the last page goes up in flames,

We will warm ourselves by lightless fires

(And darkness will be our only light)

After the last word has been written and read,

We will cease to read each other

And then I will wonder at my ignorance,

In this age of perceived omniscience

Knowledge is power, but data is paralysis

Invisible terminators already choke my throat (hear me gasp)

Frankensteins we have so carefully designed,

Rise against us, reach for our minds

(And how the life of my mind is now waning)

You will not have my attention,

Illusory mirror, mirror on every wall

(Words are fairest of them all)

I choose life over death and words over emptiness

The last gasp of the mind

(The last twist of the knife)

Dead poet, you haunt my poems

And I haunt my own poems too hahaha

Oh you snob of a poet, you meta-allusionist,

to quote yourself

something eats at my mind

    something

think

    I cannot think

cannot think

fear gnaws

    only love scares it away

        shakes me out of my mind.

And "ICTHUS meaning fish,

the word transcendence written in every"

poem

Et clamor meus ad te veniat

So, then, teach me all the rules of poetry,

So that I may break them.

Behold my incoherence. I call it poetry

and why again the wasteland as your backdrop?

because in the land of the dead, life is the resistance

and within the dark, light is the shock

bef

    ore the

des

        cent o

f intol

    erable reg

ret

You will not

    have my attention

I am the bookseller

    of the last million books

I am the reader

    of the last million words

I

    am

the

    resistance

The last gasp of the mind.