EntropyDegeneration is as natural and rhythmic as our breathing,As unthinking as the colder bodyWhich cannotShare what heat it has.Easily expected as closed doors,Systematically, of course,Isolating any exterior environment which threatens usWith foreign matter.(But they say every step can be undone)And I wonder,Equilibrium or entropy? "The entropy of the universe tends to a maximum."Work and disorder andHeat. We move.We move and things scatter,With all the building intensity of dissipation,And heat death is not quite inevitable then.Living to see the sun failAnd stars, -One by one-Wink out.Never.I lie under the sheets, whispering entropies.
AbsenseAbsenceThere is something truly refreshingAbout letting it all go.About ripping off years of metaphors,Peeling back each comparison, which,however adequate it may beIs just compensation, clutter,Covering fearOf the beautiful absence.The moment is uselessIf we never let down to the heart of the matter,Which is what no metaphor can capture,No simile can define,And all the likeness in the world cannot tame.Creamy fresh pages of liesAre nothing special. What makes this uniqueIs its reality. One which says it as it sees it.Sometimes uglyBut always, ever and only itself.Its the art of being what we mean.There is less beauty in making things obscure,And for once,One must let go,Strip off the imagination,And say exactly how things are.I find that all this talk of petals, electricity, oceans,Snowfall, battles, and raindropsIs simply one layer of meaningToo many.
Life Before Death and CandyLife Before Death and CandyPeople say, I believe in love,But what does that mean, honestly?Youre an idiot to deny its existence,After all,People act like fools over it Committing suicide, and writing ballads,And doing embarrassing and undignifiedThings, like starting warsAnd calling each other Muffin.Perhaps its no more than candy hearts and girlie magazines,And ugly stuffed gorillasWhich mysteriously appear every February, languishingAway in discount bins until the snow finally melts.Or maybe just the parts in moviesThat youre always too embarrassed not to watch.Perhaps its being intoxicatedBy the salty taste of your popcorn-tinged lipsAs we kiss- goodbye goodbye goodbye-Goodnight.Perhaps its no more than toleratingYour awful morning breath every morning,And how I watch your sleeping faceAs the hair turns silver and the lines around your mouth get deeperAnd it finally falls asleepFor the last time.