There is a rot on us all


Doing lunch

With an expensive worthless man

In an expensive worthless suit

Over martinis or latte


Slowly, acidly destroying

Without thought or care

Creating an interchangeable future and past

But then, that is no future


A mildewed future of repetition

Worms that look the same at both ends

But surely, leaves that wither and fall and crumble

Will not become green again


The rot corrodes our eyes

No one sees the new leaf

Is the old one painted green


Can you tell?

Is it too late to notice the decay

When it is ourselves

Fooled into allowing the dead leaves

To be spread over us?


The rot grows

And when the deteriorated is discarded

What will be put in its place?

A newer mold?

A fresher rot?

Or a fresh future?

A possibility

Where there was repetition


Continuation comes

A possibility

2 thoughts on “Rotten

  1. Pingback: Liebster Blog Award | The Noise of Silence

  2. Pingback: Muse | The Noise of Silence

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