Belch

The planet hasn’t been this warm for millions of years. Jungle is the new skin. A spinous beast of flesh-and-stone comes along and gnaws on the dying cities, swallows all it can manage. It meanders along the blossoming curve of earth, coughing up guns and concrete, art and cell phones, machinery and bones. Now it bays at the indifferent moon, its belly fat with the lingering screams of monochrome souls. Its gut swells, heaves, rumbles like an angry volcano. And before curling down for another million-year nap, it drops its forest-covered jaw and lets out a putrid, roaring belch—expelling the failed god of a thing called Man.

(From the book The Hunchback's Captive and Others)