End Times for All Last Nerves

A flood of sensory input disorients

for silent seconds

This melange of aromas

gratifications with top tier body function

in a life spiral end point for first place

Easy wins over awareness

which stretches and yawns one morning

to find every goddamn piece of furniture rearranged

Protests futile

Fingers at recalcitrant angles

Thyroid imbalance that requires px* meds 3 x a day

and digestive system on a toned down menu selection

Choice profanities outdated

Sounds inane

SOPs** fight back via cumulative data

and handwritten receipts

faded travel itineraries

and three cars they don't even make anymore

let alone service

Hey…remind them

knees that creak retain adequate motor function

to still kick hard

Go on

Let ‘em be a smart ass

I'll chuck back well-meaning assumptions directed my way

with whatever finger flicks up the highest

Forward motion

remains forward motion irrespective of speed

Make

People

Wait

Teach lessons

Correlate what all-consuming reach

for pre-programmed societal accolades at breakneck speed

does to a body over time

Conduct a three-hour final exam at the end

Laugh like hell

behind the book you can't read

without your bifocals

In times past

I might have said

Hold fire

Bide your time

But now the world overflows full of flippin' nonsense

The hourglass empty

No witnesses necessary

Only a season of retribution

that'll be done when it's done

*px – prescription

**SOPs – Standard Operating Procedures

***

Author's Note:

Quite often, my poetic ramblings are just that...ramblings. Thank you for having the time on your hands to read them. I appreciate your support!