I'm afraid this little poem,
doesn't have a lot to say.
No musings about life and death.
or lost loves along the way.

There's no long rumination,
about the world in which we live.
And in terms of inspiration,
well, it hasn't much to give.

It's not deep or thought provoking,
or even whimsical at all.
It's in no way wildly ambitious,
but rather short and plain and small.

Perhaps you're a bit curious,
about why I chose to write it.
I had a pen and I had an urge,
and it did not seem right to fight it.

Yes, it's just a little poem,
and you may find it quite a bore.
However, if I keep writing,
it won't be little anymore.

So thanks for stopping by
and taking time to read my friend,
but I think it's time we brought
this little poem to an end.

From the deep shadows of the universe
desolation comes in many unexpected
and intriguing forms.

Why are they all able to find me so easily?

Who am I?

Where is the edge of the Universe?

Why must life be this way?

How was my soul brought into existence?

And most important of all:

What's for dinner?

Two seats are waiting for me,
on a slow train to hell.
There's no getting out of it.

In the midst of an unsettled night,
I get whisked away down the tracks.
...ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump...
this is the sound that follows me to my grave.

The world I know fades away.
Replaced by something darker,
twisted, and impeccably unnerving.
For the moment, I am not afraid.
But I suspect that won't last long.
The lights grow dimmer.
I can hear the growling of monsters
around the curve up ahead.

My body tenses.
Bloodcurdling screams
pierce the foggy night.
Two sinister red eyes,
born out of the depths of hell
lock their gaze on me.

Something...is terribly wrong.

Insanity wraps around me like
a warm blanket on a winters night.

My faculties are lost.

A preacher cannot save me.
A doctor cannot heal me.
A loved one can not help me.

The creature lashes out
with a warrior fierceness.
It eviscerates my flesh with its claws.
The end draws ever closer.
And even though I am terrified,
a strange calm comes upon me.

The last of my life force drains
from my weak and frail human form.
The creature devours what's left of me.
As the train goes plummeting over the cliff
into the impenetrable darkness below.

Why do I weep in the sunshine,
but dance in the rain?

Why do I search in the depths,
instead of climbing the mountain?

Why do I wonder what it's like to burn,
instead of escaping the fire?

Why does calmness scare me,
yet fear comforts me?

Why am I more fascinated by death,
than the mysteries of life?

I always wince a little bit
when I feel the needle tear my skin.
Staring out into the night,
Soon, the train will whisk me away
to my happy place.

The doctor was good to me this time.

He gave me a special dosage.
I fill the syringe to its peak.
A terrible smile crosses my lips
as I let the anticipation ruin me.

I inject the liquid wonderment
deep inside my veins.
My prison bars slowly melt away,
as the drugs invade my heart.

I am lifted up to the sky.
Who needs Aladdins flying carpet?
The stars are mine.
At least, until I come crashing back down to earth.

Then I will find myself in barrenness,
lost to the world around me.
Desperately searching for a new doctor
to make it all disappear.

I know your instincts tell you,
that's it time to run away.
But the reckoning is coming,
and your soul's in disarray.

No one wants to face him,
No one wants to cross that line.
Everyone is brought to judgment,
Everyone is prey to time.

You might think you can avoid him,
but quite soon you'll learn the truth:
This isn't something you can win,
These are not the days of youth.

They say he's cold and vicious,
and his spirit somewhat fickle.
No one wants the business end
of a freshly sharpened sickle.

They say every man and woman,
when it's death they're about to face,
Should put on a mask of bravery,
and accept the thing with grace.

That may sound a little foolish,
and not the gift for which you prayed.
But what's the point in ending a life,
In anger and afraid?