Contagion

Is it possible, Death: a bit of happiness? a sun to shine? a felt

Joy? For the light is dim; and venom leaks; and something

Is knifing joy. Must the world perish? Must love give up

The ghost? I ask, aware of discontent; and the future drips

Blood; and concrete hopes plead mercy; for something

Gelid rules; and warmth is but a ruse; and heart is but a

Void. A skeleton walks the land—condemning cupid—in

Need of therapy; and no one cares; and no one hears.

Thus, we perish; and thus, we squirm; and sweet music—

Is sweet sorrow; and she dances venom; and poison scrapes

The psyche; and we’re all to fault; and dare to live. Is it

Possible, a bit of happiness? a sun to shine? a felt joy? For

Dearest Death, the world is moving, and waits for no man; and

Dare the soul; and dare the light; and fathom self.