Archive
05/08/09 - (3)
All the Time in the World
Too often, I hear people say, "I've got all the time in the world," And though I'm not part of their conversations, An angst wells up in me that wants to obliterate such inanity, Shout, "Don't you know? Why don't you get it? You should realize you have no say-so in existence!
"But you don't — don't figure it out, don't get it, That death couldn't care less about your destinies!" And I, who've suffered their presumptuous assumptions, Fade into stage left's scrim-curtain silence, Before I can warn them that death is a sadistic bitch,
Who's infamously, insidiously in cahoots with time, Such that when it hears humans trivializing their mortality, It gets its hackles up, growls, bares its fangs, And roars, "Go fuck yourself! The only time in the world you've got has just run out!"
05/08/09 - (3)
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