o heedless creature

poem by Vaspers the Grate O heedless creature enthralled with sundry delights, ferociously chasing uneven evaporations: What does your unknown expiration date mean to you? When you think about how you could abruptly die at any random moment? Or could just as suddenly, without a single warning, begin a long, tortured spin-down spiral into an unseemly whirlpool of anguish and mind-boggling pain, accentuated with absolute helplessness? The other side of that ugly and dreaded reality is full of hope and trust, truth and goodness, but what about that final phase? that lasting trace? your death-refrigerated face? What will unexpectedly come creeping out of your skinbag, smirking at all who encounter it, slithering in a senile imposture, slobbering, violent, blind, when nothing remains of Present Mind? How will your horrified wife, children, siblings, as onlookers purveying an astonishing scene, view your Final Self in all its macabre, in all its repulsively insane insatiability? Work on sanity, clarity, spirituality now... before the worst in you necessarily, monstrously begins to come out, in your last days on earth. Wretch, now what's that worth?