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From Marina
Tomorrow isn’t promised and not much can be done today,
Live for the instant, like absorbing the typical moment will make everything ok,
Not true – we must wait, knowing even if achieved all will be gone soon,
Hoping desperately to make it to the next moment, to avoid deaths inevitable monsoon,
Dying, creating imaginary remedies to cure this disgusting,
Non-existence, in any fabricated fix we will naturally become more trusting,
Hard to find lasting meaning when nothing lasts, when to destruction all are bound,
Even harder to accept such a fleeting existence, idling – waiting to be eternally downed,
Everyday more tired, cutting myself open, watching sad truth flow from the incision,
Time fades us, kills us – blindly driving on ice - waiting for the unknown collision,
Deconstructing mother nature, haunted by premonitions of epidemic disaster,
I needn’t worry too much – mankind will die, but I’m vanishing much faster,
Alas, togetherness – the coveted feeling of worthiness, the gold nugget – the panacea that doesn’t cure,
We all want it, many get it – I’m quarantined from it, from her.
