this is the day.
this is the last day.
it stretches out before me.
naked flesh with valleys and hills.
though wrinkled by the time.
ravaged by the savages of time.
this is the last day.
the day that takes one last breath.
and looks back over its shoulder.
the eyes gloaming the voice moaning.
this is the day.
this is the last day.
when the world covers its face
with white hoar frost.
a blanket to hide the putrid
whoring of wasted youth.
this is the last day.
when it can be asked
if you did live or bumbled along dying.
and the flies buzz around now.
they smell the sweet wet stench of death.
their young are hungry for this flesh.
this last morsel of beating yet vapid meat.
maggots.
these mealy maggots like waxing moons
feasting on the waning gristle of this houseful of loons.
this is the last day.
thank god for the last.
this naked flesh stretched taut.
yearning and reaching.
but for nought.
softly the earth is covered with velvet.
the mold and mildew of decay.
soft is the braying mistaken for praying.
this is the day.
this is the last day.
when the fabric of time
is rolled up into the attic.
and for a moment in space.
the stars sparkle with static.
and dark and livid is heaven an antic.
this is the last day.
the comical lunatic ever so frantic.