Denial of the end

They're sprawling on my back,
Making obscene gestures,
Biting and crawling
like black fiery catarpillars.
It tickles when
their needle claws rip through my skin,
And burns a little
when the dragon belches flame.
I would tell them to stop,
but it would be too hard
to stop the apocalypse.
Wasn't it the Aztecs
said it would happen in 2012?
Figures,
they'd be wrong.
An iron tooth is buried in my shoulder.
Now it seems, stuck.
Wild primordial laughter is roaring in my ear.
Shut up, you bastards.
I roll my eyes in typical manner,
and continue on my way
with monster at each other's throats,
Spilling blood,
Spilling rust,
all over my lower back.
I will not turn around
for you to see
the creatures in
The final throes of battle,
Behemoth and Leviathan.