Flowers Anyone?

No day passes without a spit of death

blowing coldly through my mind.

It’s just a brain thing I think.

Sometimes I feel like a hitchhiker

traveling down snow covered path

leading to the chill of reality.

Sometimes reality is cold and frosted,

sometimes it’s nothing, black hole

screaming through my mind.

I never tell anyone,

such a thought is only hyperbole,

a search for attention or sympathy.

It’s a two-day deal you know,

cremate, donate, and flowers in a jar.

Heaven, hell, bullshit

which would you prefer?

Personally I’ll have the bullshit

Alla Carbonara