the endless
"life is fucked and then you die,"
in deep despair said i to i
looking over my shoulder to the past
- if you can call it such a thing
of mediocrity and isolation
and the present filled to bursting
with disenchantment, malcontent
and unrequited love so fierce
it threatens to erupt in a fiery
torment of pain and joy and woe!
the future disappears around
an uncertain corner that is seen
through hazy eyes, tired eyes
eyes that yearn for peace and sleep
but instead find only you
sashay.