Poet13's Blog

These unfulfilled aspirations slip away dissolve just beyond reach
as insubstantial and evanescent as half remembered dreams
our cascading desires thicken around us like fog dampening our vision
we lose our way amid the trappings of our accumulated successes
every item we check off the list becomes a hash mark against us
a symbol seared into the flesh one of a thousand cuts self-inflicted.

And so the dance of life becomes a kind of slow writhing
ritual suicide by psychic self-flagellation seeping blood and piss
warms us in the moment but the vast relentless cold presses in
draining the vitality from our existence
these things these notions we amass pile up on top of us
until we lie buried bloodless corpses beneath impressive tombs.