death
You are going to die!
I am going to die!
How are you able to forget —
forget this single fact of your life?
In the face of death,
every moment,
how are you able to keep a face?
Did anybody tell you
that at the end you die?
I am bored of your toys —
of your food, women, money, power,
of luxury, entertainment.
Are they supposed to make me forget this?
Like seriously,
for a single moment,
feel it in your bones:
you will die.
You are going to die.
Why bother?
How are you able to even move?
Even bother to talk?
Even bother to think?
You don’t know death.
I swear you don’t!
You are meaningless —
less than a meaningless.
Would you carry a baby,
knowing when it is out,
it will die?
Fight with your shadow.
It knows you will die.
Go on — do the dishes.
Death is not your concern.
Death is organic.
You are mechanic.