Literature
2026 Premonition From the Dark
2026 Premonition From the Dark
by p.b. wells
I sit in my Fortress of Solitude,
lights off,
and it feels like a bunker,
and the dark is not just dark.
I’ve had bad nights before.
I’ve had those moods
that crawl up your throat
and make your tongue taste like rust.
but this is different.
this is heavier.
this is a hand on the back of my neck,
forcing my face toward the future
and making me see
precisely what is coming.
it is not a feeling.
it is a premonition.
a black one.
a mean one.
the kind that does not knock.
it just steps inside
and sits down like it owns the chair.
I see my country split
like a cheap bar fight
that never ends,
people spitting hate
at strangers
as if it is holy water.
I see people who call themselves Christian
stringing lights on plastic trees
and cheering as bombs
drop on people
they have never met,
never listened to,
never mourned.
Merry Christmas.
have a body count.
I see violence wearing a badge,
masked faces, hooded shadows,
moving through
