There will be
discontentment.
Every now!
And then, knock...knock
Knock! It likes to,
on thoracic
diaphragm.

Capillaries
become filled with
emptiness, and
the brain knows this.
"Fill the empty!"
How it must feel
to know but keep
the heart's shadow.

Blood is boiling,
Blind is leading.
There are voices,
keep repeating
the eulogy,
and attendees
all deserted
ceremony.

For one last wake-
ing breathe, "Wake up!"
Muscles convulse.
Some dream before,
Soul floats above,
observing life
in control of
playback time.

Fear...Happiness.
Anger...Surprise.
Sadness...Disgust.
Another reprise!
"Take this drug for
medicinal
purposes, please".
Paralyze...numb
Tranquilize...dumb.
Petrify...stump.

"Why don't you wake?!"
A shrieking gasp,
Oo-oo-oo-Ahh!
Then heavy pants,
Ahh, Ah ha, Ahh
"'twas a close one",
The dark matter
shifted away,
the brain in cue.
What was it then,
discontentment?

It hasn't clues.
"I just want more",
said the voices
in the poet's,
"of life, that is".
Reprise!