Mortal Musings

Because I could not stop for death…
An unhealthy obsession with death is
an occupational hazard for poets.
Everywhere stop signs seem to sigh.
This could be your last cup of coffee.
Was that cough allergies or lung cancer?
Soon enough, you’ll know the answer.
Perpetual dying makes life tedious.
You’d prefer to just get it over with.
But the Muse insists on slow expiration.
That date stamped on your ass
seems to be extended infinitely.
She’s the boss of your soul after all.
She wants you to go, but to go so slow.
Important to be a team player you know.
She’s the one who knows the song.
No choice at all but to sing along.
She has many ghostly gasps to dictate.
You hold the moral pen and cooperate.
If you like this piece, and can afford it, please consider donating.
Help keep me on my meds…

