Most of us are in Debt

to a creature

that must be paid.

We have woken-up from death

to understand

that life could end

at any moment,

or worse…

it could get far worse…

Nuclear radiated flesh, and such.

We depend on Hollywood for our illusions

for perfect suntanned bodies

following meaningless routines

out of fear,

or necessity

to alleviate our anxiety.

We are getting older,

and the forever pill won’t happen.

Time is eaten away by trivialities,

like a monster

consuming our debt.

“Who am I?” Won’t matter, when 100 years will erase my name.

There is a limit to wisdom

a limit to life

There are rules

for this game.

In the end, you will lose

unless you admit

you’re a cheat,

but playing the board game square

is boring.

I want to win.

I want to roll the dice.

Can I beat death in life?

Or is that just a fleeting feeling,

as worthless as dopamine?

There are sublime moments, when I am connected to the whole.

I am an individual

separate

and not alone.

But how can I be perfect

when this world ends in corruption?

I see cavities in the politician’s mouth

and I don’t judge him

because I love candy.

He has to lie

to convince us, he’s healthy.

We’re all slowly dying.

Half the jobs on our planet

deal with decay: blue-collar garbage collectors,

and white-collar debt collectors.

Our birthday suits will rot—

no matter how beautiful

or in-fashion they were.

The soul can’t be seen,

but it exists.

Otherwise, it’s all dirt.

What do 6 million lives matter

when history forgets them

like a buried ant pile?

We walk around

thinking of me.

We are lonely

in our thoughts.