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The time of your life is ruthless;
nirvana’s a phantasmagoric specter.
So you wonder how this is the joy
the world’s population calls “Life.”

Best to consume this bitter irony
with a breed of dead acceptance,
so you won’t choke as you swallow
whatever thing they call “Life.”

Surreptitiously it wracks your senses,
numbs you relentlessly.
So the sweet irony is that tough
is just a word they use for “Life.”

Or perhaps…
Irony is neither sweet nor bitter;
it is what it is, simple unexpected fact.
So as nothing penetrates your smile,
you wonder why “Life” isn’t called death.
©2006-2010 ~genocide-is-fun
:icongenocide-is-fun:

Author's Comments

This is an old poem...I don't really feel like this anymore fortunately. Thanks for my friend for exposing me to the word "phantasmagoric."


And it kinda reminds me of Sai from Naruto, if anyone's read ahead in the manga.

Comments


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:iconeyan:
woah, deep man, deep! I can sense how you felt, amazing poet you are! keep it up *pokes* =^..^=
:icongenocide-is-fun:
*tears up a bit*
THAAANK YOU!!! :hug:
:iconkhaotic-kross:
xD
Hahaha phantasmagoric


You were reffering to me right?
xD You called me your friend
You put this on on mikeys bday ahhaa
yay.
oo
woo comments are late but w/e yay
:icongenocide-is-fun:
Hahaha yeah, yeah, it was you.

Yah, whatev.

:hug:

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April 15, 2006
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