Dying highs
It doesn't matter what you do to yourself
it all comes to the same end;
cafeine speeds you up,
grass slows you down.
The lack of sleep fogs you up
and math clears you out.
Its all part of the same game
going down to where you die.
You been running all you life...running down.
What does it matter how you do it?
Its just like the illusion that
there's somewhere to get to
There's nothing to hold onto, either.
We're dying constantly in an endless
progression to nowhere
although we struggle to believe otherwise.
We're always trapped here, in the now,
and we fail to see it as the window it is
into the greater truth
with all its beginnings and endings.
Somehow, though we're given the power
to imagine almost anything,
we find it the hardest to imagine the truth.
gallagher
13 september 76
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —