A Turning Point
I am right now writing this poem about what I feel when I am confronting time now that I am beginning to understand time better

But I do not know how to write a poem because I do not know how to write but there are these thoughts and feelings about things

If I am not actively producing then I am convinced that I am actively dying because non-productive time feels like nightmare quicksand

When the hearty immortal and self-delighted child actually glimpses the end game for the very first serious time

A first really clear view into the very drudgery turmoil and misery the third act brings and there are never any encores

When desperation and neuroses are no longer feared but embraced as methodologically sound sources of comfort and safety

Acceptance that this “bit” has been fully purchased for the full non-refundable retail sticker only someone woefully unprepared would pay

Perhaps it works for somebody somewhere somehow sometime because for all the “it doesn’t really matter” bluster it has always mattered

We blindly speed on this “one time only” thrill ride only to discover that planned obsolescence never accounted for brakes (breaks)

Basically we are all helplessly hurled through time and space randomly out of control until we simply deplete all of our fuel

As much as we fight and as much as we protest probability suggests that we will not be the very first champions over time

So what we are aging and we realize that not only will we die forever but will suffer all of the many injustices and indignities of destiny