End Of The World Sale Poem by Josh Kukla

When apocalypse comes to cleanse us all,
the best place to be will be at the mall.
Morals on sale at blowout price,
as nuclear winter puts us on ice.
Ten story tidal waves bring up the surf,
so beach front property will gain new worth.
So go do your drugs, go back to your wars,
back to your jobs, your houses and stores.
back to you everyday worries and frets,
for now there's no time for hopes or regrets