How cunning is entropy
in its capture of my planet.

Just a kitten to the touch and appetite
with its chocolate eyes;
it purrs its seductive innocence,
soft as summer butter
slipping through pleasures' honeycomb portals
like the aroma of hot soup.

But once inside
it is a parched, starving hound,
instinct-driven and viscera-bound
sniffing out my life's moments
making time a tapeworm spiral
coiled around foolish hopes of resurrection
kilned in its determined despair
by countless self-lies:
"Just one more won't hurt."

02/20/2002

Posted on 02/20/2002
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