like ants crawling up to a dead thing

the days follow

each other

like ants

towards a dead

thing

and after enough of

them pass

by,

you

finally realize you

are that dead thing

And that's supposed to

be alright. After

all, no one is

excused from this

All we can

do is make the journey

pleasant

However,

when the alarm wakes you

up at

6:30 in the morning,

announcing that there's

yet another day

in which you'll have to attend

your duties of

slaving away for others to

get rich,

when you're slipping

into the other

half of your life

not bringing along any

fulfilled dreams

despite trying again and

again...

Another day

in which you'll be assaulted

by questions

like,

"Hey, so when are you

going to get married?"

"Have you even

someone to marry?"

"Why don't you

get another job? Aren't you a bit

too old for this one?"

"How much do

they pay you?"

"Are you ready for your

cousin's wedding?

Oh, and then there's

the wedding of

this other cousin. Wow, lots

of weddings lately. What

about you?"

Slowly,

old friends become

mere acquaintances

and finally

strangers

and you just regret

that family can't

quite follow the same pattern

They say that if you're

the smartest person

in the room

you're in the wrong room

But what do they

have to say

when you're the most

unfulfilled person in

the room?

They'd probably ask

how the fuck

you got like that

You probably don't

even know

anymore

probably don't

care

You just watch

the ants follow

each other

on the trail to the dead thing

and the closer they

get

the more you

urge them

to hurry the fuck up,

stupid creatures

You just wanna give 'em

a hand.

Bring the dead thing

to them

Throw it on

top of them

***

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