I come home smelling of someone elses sweat Crawl into bed next to wife Knives of guilt Bleeding the bed.
Maybe I have done heroic things in past lives, Defended outer galaxies from daemonic risings, Villages under my protection, Medicines made and distributed.
But for now I am forty And I smell of someone elseβs sweat And I am next to my wife In my bed In my house
And it doesnβt feel all that heroic.
we're all in the same petri dish, squirming our ***** around forever.