Death is like all my passions
I look forward to until it’s upon me
then paralyze with fear of regret:
Wasn’t there more I meant to do before
the ultimate surrender?
Then my solace is knowledge of the inevitable
there will always be more
but that doesn’t change the enough,
one side’s loss is the other’s relief.
Now it’s my turn to carry consciousness
like water of the universe sloshing over
a cup of flesh called Jeffree
that may hold for 80 years, pray no longer,
every crack leaking to the next tier.
Lap up kids, while the cascade lasts
think up some good questions, muster your patience,
and I’ll try to answer.
It’ll be your fall after you want it.
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