Mere Continuance



Their ignored moon gleams out of the darkened above while they all stare at screens

Paying no mind to the nocturnal beauty in the sky even as its unnoticed glow screams

They all seem deceased to me

Killing themselves quickly or slow

They all capitulate quite easily

Expiring inside years ago




They’re too wrapped up in their convenient torture devices

Trapped in technology

Strapped into modern misery

They’re too fixated and sedated to realize this is a crisis

Machinery dwindling the few finer sides of their humanity




Suicide bit by bit is the acceptable way for the end to be conceived

The world rife with those toiling at spoiling away piece by piece silently

Suicide by complacency makes the still breathing bereaved

Look anywhere to view the majority undoing themselves shamelessly

Suicide very often takes much of a diminishing lifetime to achieve




They’re hypnotized by their new and improved distractions

Delighted in others’ despair

Excited by narcissism everywhere

They’re too inane and indifferent to cease their cavalier actions

Sacrificing the future for present pleasure without a care




Suicide incrementally with a sham smile is the sophisticated way to die

Our want to live and our instinct to dismantle ourselves are given equal devotion

Suicide formed by the blight of the ease of survival is in ample supply

In every direction I observe heaps of people butchering themselves in slow motion

Suicide is commonly painted over swiftly after it is publicly decried




Their shunned sun rises while they’re all zombified by digital demise

Gawking at the screens of madness machines as they’re desensitized 

Abated attention spans

Apathy grown out of hand

Disconnected by constantly connecting

Behind the scenes their spirits are dying

Tranquilized electronically

Unfulfilled chronically

Further stressed

Further depressed by the mess of regressive progress

Digging their own graves with complacent resignation

Killing themselves calmly and casually

Dancing with dilapidation with no hesitation

They undermine themselves so comfortably

The contemporary black hole

The contemporary black hole consuming them whole




Despite all I have and what makes my life worth living

On occasion I think it would be best if I were no longer here

Cursed with petrified paranoia that this perennial fear is near

Despite your unconditional radiance towards me shining

I find too frequently that life has depleted much of its meaning

My unshakable belief that in time by my own hand I will be slain

Pursued by an unnatural feeling that I’m meant to perish that way

The craving to eliminate myself is as strong as my will to remain

This part of my charcoal soul

This part of my charcoal soul trying to consume me whole



Again out of hiding this craving emerges

Eager to barrage me with noxious urges

Through my bedroom window I see the defunct me standing

He looms in an unearthly fog with his craving eyes staring

Impaired overcast orbs opened wide

Incapacitated by his fatalistic want inside

I know he’ll never leave me alone

He knows to self-devastation I am prone

And now he drifts calmly to the window

Presenting his odious, deceitful grin

Into my spellbound eyes still staring

Into this shifting rift in me he’s glaring

Enticing me to give in

Memories of poisons of the past

Desertions of the self that didn’t last

To capitulate to a sip he is imploring

Away from the window I should be turning

Or I am certain to comply with this yearning

With decayed, grey skin and a ghastly grin

Standing and glaring

Shrouded circle sockets tempting me to give in

Perpetually staring




A moon ignored

A sun shunned

By ourselves we tend to be undone

I’d rather die than to myself succumb

If I’m unable to enjoy a bright day in autumn

Without the cracked crutch of numb

In death better off I’d be

If within me I’m overgrown with apathy

If past the mechanical agony I cannot see

In death better off I’d be

If I cannot simply adore and appreciate you

If I only can endure with inebriation too

Gone from me better off you’d be

If I’m transfixed by his sadistic stare

If I don’t turn away and stay in his glare

If I’m eclipsed by debauched despair

In death better off I’d be

If I look in a mirror and once again see

A wilted mere continuance version of me

In death before long I’d be

By Adam Keith McElwain

Copyright Adam Keith McElwain Poetry

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