The End Is Always Near

I sit at the park benches,

confront life with invective,

Not much has changed in the last 10 years:

fewer friends, more responsibility, but the same perspective,

The monsoon weather saturates this place,

brings back memories that have long ago started to fade,

I remember the invincibility of childhood,

the non-realization of death, the ability to never be afraid,

Time is a perfectly built race car,

forever, flawlessly speeding towards the finish line,

The light summer breeze asked me what the meaning of life is,

I told her: ask a cat, it experiences life multiplied by nine,

Because I am alone now, like in my final days,

like when the earth uses the last of its inhalations,

Each gray hair, each wrinkle, each blemish, each day: each of these the loudest of susurrations,

Time refuses to reverse itself,

yet everything else relentlessly recedes,

It deteriorates dreams, weathers the will, unbashfully batters hope until to lifelessness it bleeds,

Nightmares comfort me,

from those I can easily wake,

No waking from life's struggles,

like earth's inhabitants are god's mistake,

Constantly sore,

To the elements my body the sleaziest whore,

Lost, and unfamiliar with the concept of found,

Living and dying, I'm half above and half under ground,

All streets lead to ghost towns,

Billboards and images of pain, sadness and frowns,

Cobwebs remind of all that I can't remember,

The fiasco of life, through the bible we are indoctrinated each December,

Contributions stay, contributors left to die like the rest of us,

The greatest of contributions stay, the greatest of contributors: left to die just as fast as the rest of us,

We are forgotten,

people practice this even before we wither to ash,

We are the future,

earth is god's landfill, and we are his trash.

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