Dingo the Dissident

THE BLOG OF DISQUIET : Qweir Notions, an uncommonplace-book from the Armpit of Diogenes, binge-thinker jottings since 2008 .

Sunday, 30 August 2020

Old, I don't feel particularly old.

When I was young
I didn't feel particularly young,
and rarely had the energy to be bold.
Death has always seemed to me
eternal respite, return to the organic fold,
and to lose my shameful humanity
as my corpse gives up its rigidity.
And I would rather die
a month, a year, a decade 'early', quietly at home
than later in a tasteless hospital. The end of life
is when we should be least controlled.

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