Wisdom teeth and worms are reminders that growing older is terrorizing; Watching our gums deteriorate like bloated roadkill that's been disregarded for some time, I take a magnifying glass to my tongue.
Feeling our flesh begin to groove like sun dried tomatoes as we instinctively prepare ourselves to decompose.
We keep ourselves up passed dawn wondering if whenever our time comes we will be aware of the mucus-green maggots making their way through our eye sockets; invading the only real thing we can deem our own and if they would really bother us all that much.
And if life goes on after life goes on,
will I be in good spirits to have my friends back in my head?
Will I accept being lowered back into the ground the next time around?