Doomer in the City

I’m a doomer, and live in a city;

In collapse, this locale won’t be pretty,

But there’s food at the store,

For awhile there’ll be more—

It’s all good, I’m not asking for pity.

I’m old, and useless for work,

And sometimes I’m kind of a jerk,

So I don’t plan to grieve

If I’m taking my leave

Before the whole world goes berserk.

When things really go down the drain,

There’ll be pain, and not much to gain;

When I’m not sniffing glue,

Seeing Fucko Bazzoo

Is a thought I don’t entertain.

I don’t have the doomstead I should—

If I had more resources, I would;

But so far I don’t,

And it looks like I won’t,

So I’m staying, and calling it good.