The days have become
cast lead ingots
that hold me under
The seconds a plague of locusts
That devour every shred of dignity
The weeks that lay ahead
leave me horizontally inclined
Now the years are rubber stamped overdue
or return to sender
The hours oscilliate from day to night to a monotonous finale
with every note short of breath
The months have compounded my interest of doubts
Leading to decades of debacles and debauchery
And to a lifetime devoid of hope