~Not An Option For The Dead

Not An Option For The Dead

Do you know how little I have,
how selfish and unproductive?
These social measures I dodge,
but by any standard measure
was dumbest staying with you.
A belief hiding your evil care
The unsupportive poetry boots
hesitating to pink your slip final?

Rules basic to survival I ignored.
Inviting you to be my predator,
I will not hurt you for cause either,
but wait till your finished dining
belly full on my bloody carcus
entirely gone to final departure.
Nothing to be gained trampling
Your peace offers, which alone
deserve respect and support my
psychotic mind knows not why.

Your responds became dessert
wasteland I fought in wild dust
backing off I came to my senses.
Your less than what Paula made
but you got your hook under lips
of poetry to flatter me into idiocy
onward then to worst I can offer
that was quick again to the fore
with grandest shit illusion in store.

Maturity over time gets gray pay
which I made into a goober drug
to survive the painfulest agonies
past loves will always remind me,
compounding what should never
have come to ruin like this, again!
It’s the willingness to keep pushing
through whack of wracking pain,
no matter how bad the pace slows
or how little one’s step will shorten
love is not an option for the dead.


© 7/28/2004, RJDuberg