The theory of oblivion
Overshadows my existentialism
Things we take for granted
drown in picture-perfect pessimism
I’m scared of indecision,
robot cats, and caustic catechisms
My road to hell is paved
with paper lace

And as the day bleeds into night,
we hide our lethophobia
Falling into black redemptions
lost in claustrophobia
Walls are closing in with dreams
of unattained utopias
You wake up finding
you have been replaced

Draped in gray, you start your day
and stand on shifting sands
Walk a tightrope in your mind
Between your vain demands
Eggshells cracking underfoot
Slippery yokes in hands
Crushing dreams
while chasing love’s remains

All the while, we smile
Filtering destructive curmurrings
Our hearts beat in reverse;
we curse the moon
with prayerful murmurings
While coveting the mayhem
stealing time with secret squirrelings
We often trade our works of art for stains

Scattered into gardens
Stones adorned with wilted orchards
We chisel our intentions
for the lovelorn and the tortured
Accumulating souvenirs
of misery we’ve nurtured
We pay our last respects
with useless poems

We gravitate toward sorrow
in the realm of the absurd
Keeping up appearances
with masquerades of words
Promises from velvet tongues
Split in halves and thirds
Confusion keeps us anxious
and alone

And then with pens like shiny strings
to guide those quokerwodgers
Painting with their instincts
singing out like artful dodgers
Wearing Cheaney shoes
and Huntsman’s suits like a stylish codgers
It’s just a lie that clothes
will make the man

And finally, all your cards reveal
the future sadly looming
A fine array of stuff we hoard,
like bodies for entombing
The day begins the way it ends,
with all that we’re consuming
Too late, we fade before
we understand

TM DiSarro

©2024 TM DiSarro / MindScapes Publishing
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Photo: Pinterest

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