She had black hair
Seductively tinged with red
I would never see her
Again-
If she just spoke to me
Alone I could tell
her everything- and in her
Obvious worldliness- I would
Have her in pity- I would be happy
For a while

Immortality
Is pestilence
Even the notion
Causes mortality
The more you
Associate with
Immortality
The less human
You become

God’s message?
No, my words
A round table sits
The feast is missing
Lavish décor
But nothing there
Which one of us
Is wrong?

Nowhere
It’s a tangible thing
I am there
I can’t leave
While you grow
I wallow
In the
Defecation
Of ignorance

There are millions of words
With millions of connotations
I chose these
Does that make me original?

The most beautiful people
are those that live quickly
when you stagnate
you die
while I stagnate,
I yearn for speed
stuck
I will go nowhere

When theism runs rampant
Originality disintegrates
What is the point
When we all love
Common enemies
You’re all the same
Even me
Replacing life
With all that is wrong