would crash


They say when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes
perhaps if such moments were more frequent, we would benefit from them
reduced apathy, melancholy and lukewarm sentiments
and more passion, decision and most importantly action

Your loved ones would know, daily, that they are counted in this elite
no dream would be left gathering dust, waiting for initiative
in the places you long to see, a bartender would know your name and poison
every look back would come with loving reminiscence, without a grimace
you would know no acquaintances, only fathomless friends
each hand would be callused, only with labors of love
not a scar on your body would have a mundane story
the fear of tomorrow would only shake out more dreams with time running short
but never leave you unsatisfied in what you have already gluttonously indulged

But, alas, today came and went without any notable difference from yesterday
perhaps there was a drink had with a friend, or the weather was better
a bonus may have lifted morale and anchored you more firmly in your cubicle
an old friend or flame reconnected recalling those blissful times of yore
you won a grand from the scratch off you buy daily with hope

And still your dreams gather dust
Your only brother still “knows” that you love him
the long list of destinations grows, with little crossed off
instead of planning tomorrow, you cling to your best years’ adventures
you have many friends, but nobody calls
the treehouse is but an idea and your hands are secretary smooth
stitches from an arterial by-pass, leaves only bad memories and more pills for the future
leaving your monotone life to ooze by the gray plains of mediocre landscapes


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