Faded

Faded. Like Thanos snapping his fingers and billions ceasing to exis- Honestly: I’m jealous. It must be nice to disappear, Vanish, go ghost like Danny on Saturday mornings. Clear your head, leave your reality And then come back before dinner. Magicians go through a secret trapdoor. I’m not that talented, sadly. My secret is simply that I can’t take anymore. The wolves caged inside my soul are hungry and… One day they just might eat me alive. If I go away, it won’t be some elaborate act Punctuated by a silly phrase or wave of my calloused hands. No, in my case it would just be steering my car into traffic, Or perhaps Off of a cliff. Maybe some unfortunate soul Would inadvertently dig up my freshly laid corpse Like a lucky archaeologist Only, you know, un. People wouldn’t gather in crowds to watch me dematerialize Because those same people don’t notice me in everyday life. To them, I’m already gone.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related entries

Drought

This poem is about our failure to feel fulfilled by our constant consumption of life.

Untold Secret of the Sky

Read it and find out.

Flight

The feeling of freedom in escaping from urban life.

My Rock

My helper

Abyss

It's a direc reflection of what most people feel in this century as they strive to survive