Life as we know it

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Pessimism likes the bone
That is carved open through flesh

The butcher’s knife in the hands
Of the age deity who puts a number on a cake

And here, like petals
On the last day before wither

Praying for an extra day, we start to fade.
Like magnolias that are petrified

Of autumn, when seasons change and last rites
Are announced. And youth, is when we dance and sin

When an orgy called friendship
And a sacrament called sex

Make life a carousal of chiseled memories.
Matters not, which horse or horses we saddled or herded

We are only as glorious as the destinies we share
And the hearts we combust….

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