the move
churns us along
in a bitter pull
against the sun
as we spiral
through space
heading
nowhere
right now.
the bend
tracks us through
the lives we're
living
burning up slowly
as the light
eats us away
piece by piece
and we don't seem
to notice.
the theology
rots our minds
to anything other
than the
bias
of unforgiving,
unrelenting
deities
who weigh on us
until we glance
eternity
through the eye
of a needle,
and some never
bother
to look.
the death
is staring us
in the face,
but we would rather
get high on our own
reflections
than to gaze
at the outcome,
so we play make believe
until we're too far
gone
and there's no way back
but down in the
dirt.
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