I'm not free

but then no one is--

we are not something special

we are not something extra

we're just fools enamored of ourselves

we parade in our little fifteen minute slice of fame

we lord it over those like us who want to be beyond

all criticism and correction--

and rto talk to you? Lord

what a fool's errand that ever turns out to be--

so don't say it was ever thus--

we never done such volume of vanity and mendacity

before in this sad world that is nothing more

than a butcher shop that draws and quarters us

and we think in our endless self-centeredness

that we are immune to life

that we are above all others

that we are God and God loves a good latte

or an indulgent moment on the porn website

jerking off over a fantasy image

of what we want our true mates to be on the inside--

that is why I do not want to be alive

when whatever cataclysm hits--

can you imagine the darkness

that will fall on our delusions?

can you begin to comprehend how utterly

our world will collapse in a heap--

and so many of us in our dying moments

unbelieving the ruins from which our distress

utters its cry--just how sad and how frightening

our trip into the Bardos will be--

leave behind the only bodies of which we are aware

and facing the dull neutral afterlife

that will demand we pony up our repentance

for all hose vain ignorant bodies have wrought

on the pliant fabric of the All?

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.