like ants crawling up to a dead thing by Bogdan Dragos

the days follow
each other
like ants
towards a dead
thing

and after enough of
them pass
by,
you
finally realize you
are that dead thing

And that's supposed to
be alright. After
all, no one is
excused from this

All we can
do is make the journey
pleasant

However,
when the alarm wakes you
up at
6:30 in the morning,
announcing that there's
yet another day
in which you'll have to attend
your duties of
slaving away for others to
get rich,
when you're slipping
into the other
half of your life
not bringing along any
fulfilled dreams
despite trying again and
again...

Another day
in which you'll be assaulted
by questions
like,
"Hey, so when are you
going to get married?"

"Have you even
someone to marry?"

"Why don't you
get another job. Aren't you a bit
too old for this one?"

"How much do
they pay you?"

"Are you ready for your
cousin's wedding?
Oh, and then there's
the wedding of
this other cousin. Wow, lots
of weddings lately. What
about you?"

Slowly,
old friends become
mere acquaintances
and finally
strangers

and you just regret
that family can't
quite follow the same pattern

They say that if you're
the smartest person
in the room
you're in the wrong room

But what do they
have to say
when you're the most
unfulfilled person in
the room?

They'd probably ask
how the fuck
you got like that

You probably don't
even know
anymore

probably don't
care

You just watch
the ants follow
each other
on the trail to the dead thing

and the closer they
get
the more you
urge them
to hurry the fuck up,
stupid creatures

You just wanna give 'em
a hand.
Bring the dead thing
to them

Throw it on
top of them