Death comes the psycho

often in small ways

Most of us die slowly

Some do whatever they can to stay alive.

They burn

One can only guess what’s on their mind.

The bones are the first that become brittle

but regardless they burn

if hot enough

and they don’t stop burning

not even in the ground.

They never lived the present

and they remembered the past through rose tinted glasses

and always thought about the future.

That’s no way to live.

Day by day,

Minute by minute,

life goes on.

until it doesn’t

and then–

Indulge in the things that destroy you…

Why the hell not?