About Unhappenings

Taking refuge behind the 
solemn words, you speak loudly. 

It rattles you, when you― 
hear, it was the world's end. 

I have not yet spoken to you 
about the happenings, which never happened. 

You want to slingshot the 
malignancy without your remedy. 

Illegible was the writing 
on the parchment. I must dig up the ruins. 

Matter of instinct, when you start 
washing your hands and spitting unendingly.