The Nightmare that is Waking Life

Pretentious pessimism.

The gift of sentience is a sentence to progressive entropy
Your body a casket to which you are restrained genetically
Wearing a piece of your face
Scotch taped haphazardly
As you chew on the rest
Every motion complicit in your slow erosion
To the loathsome cooler, broken bones frozen
Jagged pieces
Sharps as knives
To saw off the piece of your body that hurts
And every piece hurts eventually