Thursday, January 12, 2017

Self Destruction

The man woke up as usual at three in the morning.
He opened his first cold beer of the day and,
likewise, lit up his first cigarette.  Pure bliss
and still another day to somehow make it through.
He knew for a fact that his late wife waited for him.
Waited for him in Heaven.  Don't worry my Love!,
he thought. I am not long for this world without you.
Still another day of drinking and smoking and eating
what he wanted to, doing what he wanted to, lay before
him.  Was it the Abyss, or was it destiny?  Inevitability?
Time would answer that question.  Relentless, remorseless,
unforgiving Time.  He would make it as easy as possible
for the Fates to deal with him accordingly.  Rather than
the arrows of Love that used to pierce his heart, mighty
Zeus now threw lightning bolts through it.  The sound of
his Thunder echoed through his Soul.  No longer embracing
Life, he eschewed it whenever possible.  Looking forward
to sunsets rather than risings, to Winter's cold fingers
rather than Spring's rebornings.  Mournings, not Mornings...

mindbringer, 12 January 2017