It's always like this,
seems to be
the way things are,
like passing
into a dark abyss,
you kiss the ground
these things are made of.

And I wonder not at their amazement,
such anger spews from their mouths,
for they foolishly stay,
such determination,
locked
in prison walls
made of their own doing.

For me,
I don't give a flying copulation anymore,
I am crossing over this time,
heading headlong
into
the outer darkness.

And they,
they will dream about me still,
the harbinger of harsh reality,
the liver of the last hurrah,
now smiling,
so alive,
so ****** alive.