It’s ill-advised
to bleed in waters
filled with hungry sharks.
Because they sense
the scent of weakness
emanating from you..
even when it’s
deathly dark.

In silence,
they gaze past
The One
who they intend
to bite.
And only when
you least expect it..
you are ambushed
by …

Who is
the firmest
ally on your side?
The One
who constantly
observes you..
from the inside.

The One
who sees you
for the sum of good
and bad
you hold within
your mind and heart.

Might it be God,
or Death, or Devil?
I can’t say..
He is …

If only digging yourself
out of holes
was quite as easy
of an ordeal..
as digging yourself in.

Alas, solutions flow
less readily
when you’re already
twelve-feet
deep.

Where it is dark
and hard to breathe,
one must have faith..
In time reversing,
quantum leaping
powers of
the magic …

My body is a temple..
desecrated to Death.
By the very hands
which built it..
way back when.

We’ll renovate it
when Moshe returns..
or so we say.
But by the time
we gather will
to do so..
but a weeping wall
is all of it
that shall remain …

How many lives
can this cat live
before he dies?
Folk wisdom
tells us
God bestowed
upon him..
only nine.

In truth, however,
only limit,
theoretically speaking,
is the sky.
Because what is
this cat..
if not a yarn ball
of a-many
thread lines
intertwined?

This cat is an
ever-evolving …

For every timeline
that collapses
unto Death..
another one
is born..
that hasn’t
gotten there
quite yet.

If only it were
just as easy
to rewind
The Doomsday Clock..
as simply flipping
the ol’ hourglass
upon its head,
bottom to top.

Alas,
new branches
only sprout
for other ones …

Have I not lived
already..
half-a-life.
Along
the razor’s edge..
Along
The Grimmest
Reaper’s scythe.

The time it takes
for glowing ones
to half-decay..
The Geiger counter’s
clicking melody
still counts my days.

This unstable atom
must release
a piece
of its own being
from the core …

Neither the river
nor the waterfall
were ever real..
your humble vessel
has been rowed
by you
and steered..
through naught
but murky
waters..
of another dream.

Alas, what time
do you still see..
when you observe
a clock?
The time has come
for you, indeed..
to finally..

Wake up …

Let’s call a spade..
a spade.
The tool you use
to dutifully dig
a hole.
An earthly grave..
but at the very least
your very own.

My final ace..
I have already played.
What now?
I keep on digging..
all the same.

And as I dig,
my branches reach …

The End.
At long, long last..
I greeted Death.

Alas, the only way
to ever dream again..
is to remain alive.

And so, I told to her..
my sweet goodbye.
The coin has landed..
on the right side.