and endings come here
with nothing such as divinity
or blessed cans of oil and incense
baptizing our souls
Nothing but ugly, fleshy, mortality,
the decaying stench of defeated microbes.
In brief flashes
that shatter time,
years slither away, forming milky pools
of withered age at the bedside.
sending mixed emotions
to the conscious realization of an end.
Ghosts of past friends roam
the space around
the body melting under fluorescent lights,
fragile remnants of pain
and joy destined to be lost forever.