flavored death

I play sadistic games with death,

poking it in the eye,

leaning toward majesty.

A burst of laughter.

A cringe

and I’m already there.

This fight we fight –

The good fight,

the true fight,

is a fight for life.

Maybe we’re not aware of it.

Maybe it’s better that way.

It keeps us from thinking

about where we’re headed.

I play a genuine game with death,

knowing all too well

it could drop me at any moment.

A cackle.

A grin.

I shutter because I’ve already went.

The bad are dark –

The bad are in control,

the controlling bad,

the bad have the life.

Maybe you know.

Maybe you’re aware.

And it drives you to the edge.

I play with the image of death

while it mesmerizes me.

A grunt.

Its purge.

I quake in its reflection.

The indifferent are all around.

All around us now.

They’re a part of you and me.

We’re all indifferent in life.

Maybe you are too.

Maybe you’ve gone that far.

And it pushes you toward insanity.