last will and testament

you stop drinking for a while
thinking that maybe
the essence has risen to the
top temporarily
or that a minor decency,
a minor sensibility
has taken a gentle
hold.
but it’s illusion, all
illusion:
the crap is still crap,
the old structure remains
firmly
embedded,
you’re going to have to
endure
the same hollow ghosts
of love,
the same cardboard
faces,
the same eyeless
eyes,
the old dark,
the same old dark,
the same knock
on the door
with nobody on the
other
side,
the placenta of
humanity,
and you are not
alone
but being alone
is one of the last
pleasures,
drinking again,
gulping in the
liquid with the
blank air,
we are not without
joy,
we have what we
need here,
subtracting from
zero is the
embellishment
and our terms are
simple,
although they may
not be met:
that the living dead
of this life
will not be able to
die
again
to follow me
when the graciousness
of death
hopefully escapes me
from the monstrous
weight of
their drizzling
suckerfish
nightmare
                    nightmare
         nightmare
nightmare.