It's easy to believe in the apocalypse when you're losing your religion.

"Malachite?"
"A rogue dwarf planet," he explains,
breathy with awe.
I'm still clicking myself
deeper into this wormhole,
tabs metastasizing
across my browser bar,
saying Malachite can heal,
Malachite can kill,
Malachite will miss,
Malachite will hit,
and I don't know which
mutually exclusive truth to believe