Time gnaws at aging flesh,
like babies we all try to get up and walk,
we grapple for some selfish soul close by,
we fight for breath,
for light,
for a cool draft from the incessant heat.

Some have the blessing of failed hope and escape soon,
some see another better world through closing their eyes,
some fight the hell with stubborn angry zest,
and others embrace this hell as home.

It all ends in blood:
its what the rat desires,
its what the rat requires.

And though we can sometimes forget,
we feel it with each pain,
each struggle,
each disappointment,
regret:

our inevitable outcome,
the brevity of time,
even all our joys are tainted with decay and death.

We know in this life we are *******-
our only hope and possible redemption is for the invisible,
the unknown,
the jest.