Death Becomes Me ~ Saturday, May 24, 2025

Perhaps it is all my fault, I was born
each day, I contemplate things otherwise
removed from the vacuum of thought, I sense
how I appear in your eyes, full of scorn
as if all meaning devolves with my face
present, about face, forward march, this guise
such as I choose, as if to sculpt a tense

insultingly laughable mindfulness
trauma makes people do dumb things, disgrace

intimates emptiness before my birth
since before my zygotic conception

as gametes seek union to conceive worth
literally, since my own deception
leads me to acknowledge my spinelessness

mercy on my soulless impermanence
yes, I acknowledge my part in the past

forgetfulness, this I am not allowed
allow me to be frank, nothing makes sense
unless the abuse I encounter tolls
like an enormous bell, how I am cast
to light or to shadow, to be not proud

I become death, death becomes me, awake

witness others with their impressive goals
as for me, I will disappear and fade
simply into a crowd, no legacy

born to fail, born to die, with no upgrade
obey the rules without controversy
rebel as an adult, a punk, I shake
not in my boots, but the world, an earthquake