Comfort in the
Thought of death.
Not death upon myself,
Or commiting a ******
But solely the thought
Of death.

We live an entire
life of wrongdoing
And good.
A life of obscurity
And abrupt openness.
We venture to abide
To the social norm.
We try so hard
In everything we do
And suddenly none
Of it mattered
And our entire worldly
Existence was worthless.
c.g.