Tuesday, October 16, 2012
No, no, we’re doing it wrong;
It is Death that should part us, not
The living of life. But perhaps,
This dull limp simulacrum of life
Is not life at all, perhaps
It is stealthy Death, sliding in,
Stealing life, sucking the love
From our bones, leaving us dry,
Hollowly hobbling through this
Gaunt shadow of life. But now
We are here in this wilderness,
Lost in the dusty wasteland,
Where we foolishly followed
That phony phantom of fake life;
Where can we go?
How do we escape?
I dread heading into the deep snow
Trying to find help, leaving you behind
Fearing they’ll find my lonely corpse
Curled forgotten in the roots of a tree.
We should stay where we are;
Stay with our twisted wreckage,
Stay together, huddle for warmth,
Wait for rescue, someone will miss us.