thought: an antidote to body - or the ought that never could, but in fact: never would; philosophy: the ultimate spectator sport.*

oddly enough,
whatever the well-paid journalists
say, i feel no obligation
to be either the spokesperson
of humanity, or the preserver of it,
that's already stated by
a billion Indians and Chinese...
i'm but the whiff inspiring
**** for a cat to be taken to sleep
in the perfumery of the night...
and isn't that poetic:
i eat my breakfast at 2 a.m.,
and eat my dinner when the
breakfast pancakes are ready -
my daydream is always:
i might sleep on the street tomorrow -
i'm sabotaging my life
with excess drink and smoke
and an Atkins diet that might ****
jogger in a fortnight -
i'm a pauper living in a house
owned by an honest professional
labourer: sure, got all the culinary toys
to storm up a curry...
dating? n'ah. marriage? double n'ah...
hits closer to home when you
think about it...
                         whatever life is possible:
always choose the luxurious one,
however strident and helpless in terms
of years of it being prolonged -
and i am begging for my life to be
merely cameo -
a lot of people don't realise how long i
have been bowing for release:
testimony against self-assurance
and the self, as in: conscious, alter.
i'm in control of myself -
mention mortality, just mention morality...
i'm ready, as i said once:
i know a place where i can find
clean water... in between?
probably a herbivore existence -
and if that doesn't build the muscles up,
i don't know what will.
honestly though, i feel no asteroid panic
gripping me, i feel no obligation
to endure humanity,
those that retired and kept it up for 15 years
can quack all that **** into their grave...
perfectly nihilistic, i am... Yoda...
i feel no obligation, i find it surprising
that all the atheistic arguments arise
from comfortable lounges and biographies...
scrap-heaps of the envisioned lives of others...
question is, on the tip of everyone's tongue:
are you afraid of death?
                                 the simple fact of mortality
is already an answer per se,
                  i guess some people never cared
for Christmas presents.
    life: or the unopened.