time does not heal,
and love does not conquer all  
though many of you would feel
cozy and comforted by such knotted notions  
time’s honored contract with chemistry
gives us but rust, and dust  
words roll off our tongues
into the air, for unsuspecting ears  
perhaps to allay our deepest fears  
that we end as ***** of dung  
effluvia from noble maggots
the last gasped gasses  
from creatures without  
the fear of failure
or the ken of death