SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days

Hope She's Pretty (toothpaste)

Since me and rum departed and me and coffee united,
I still need breath mints,
teeth whitened,
a new disposition on life,
hope,
serenity knowing
someone can accept me:
clothes wrinkled, hair unwashed,
fingernails torn from biting, and one lazy eye:
happy or otherwise perky
without my latest vice.
Maybe I’ll use up my Vicodin,
liquor store closed until 8 AM, stomach detoxing from its bath --
over-caffeinated, acidic aftermath.

I know we are all looking for a fix, because there is no solution for the emptiness within
and yet,
if the universe stopped expanding
and
collapses on itself, then
there is no time to waste, because
we will all be gone in an instant. No rapture;
no afterlife, just nothingness. If that is our existence now...

.... I'm sorry, I started thinking...

.....what would be a better purpose for my time? To write or to live? if, no one hears me, no one has read, and no one will listen? If they even bother to get a glimpse, are they moved? If they bother to fully read, do they understand? If they bother to study what is writ, origins, do they seek discourse, agree there is a better approach to finding utility in this life?

Utility.
Boring.
Lay down the pen, kiss life fully on the mouth wherever you roam, make no apologies as they have you fitted for white garments, drug you, lock you up. Perhaps,
a better use of time on this disconnected, flat land, horizonless journey of a sterile existence...

(toothpaste)

...I choose coffee, and Vicodin, and, when the liquor store opens, I’ll kiss life full on the mouth,
maybe the sales clerk, too. Hope she’s pretty. Sorry, men.




Sent from my iPhone to my iPad to Writing.Com email to my blog
What a circuitous, meaningless journey.
*white noise*
No
*static*
Yes
I've made my point abundantly unclear

'You're Welcome' ?
irony
you are free to misinterpret, roam your own existence now.