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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
