#2064 - death

 

2064

6.237

25.viii.25

death

 

my best shot at oblivion

and yet not yet

 

invaluable aid to fame

and still a dodgy risk

 

it’s when the wheels come off

no weather

 

friend and foe and all the same

 

somewhere in the world

death’s constant companion

I could make a list

 

death is the falling away of the thought

death in the dung we do

 

more death

mere death

 

and springs to life

as ordure of the day breeds flies

 

we’re up to our necks in old tricks

by blade or fade

 

all this was, by the way, an homage

 

exeunt – the all of was, of me

and still you find us here

I have this to hope

we few

 

don’t call us

we’ll come for you