Not to worry

For once, I'd like to wake up and only think of breathing. Without a gnat of worry buzzing in my mind. No nothing, peaceful. Free of everything. And you wonder if this is only possible in death's loving arms. But of course, nothing in this life warrants for such damnation. Not in mine, at least.

Cowardice

After a night of agony,

Contemplating death in all its glory,

The morning after is dim,

Muted, like a dream.

You care less about yourself,

And care nothing for others,

The world seems emptier,

But your soul, never lighter.

Putting up facades for your peers,

In your eyes, the vacancy lingers,

Not that they shall notice,

Your cleverly hidden solstice.

Like a cancer the idea spreads,

Infecting your diseased mind,

Every breath poisonous,

Every blink dying.

The yellow beast in your gut hisses,

Warning, pleading, grovelling,

So you stop wishing for destruction,

So you keep breathing in your dungeon.