Standard

That old conspiracy
of time and space
will spirit me
soon away
from this place,
deliver me
to memory
and dirt.

Those precious appetites
I seek to sate
will kill my
true hunger
as I await,
in submission,
permission
to hurt.

Still comes the agony,
banal and base,
to grin and
condemn me
ever to face
a life diminished,
unfinished
and cold.