aging · death · depression · diary · health · mortality · self

deathstar(e), 28th October 2016

when I look in the mirror I see death…. there’s no black dog, or horsemen of the apocalypse or hooded skeleton waving scythes around…….. just a lingering, a laborious lingering……. waning and draining away……. something gnaws at the expression looking back, wearing it down and down to the bone, bare bone…… vitrified stone…….. all these years in a single glance….. vigour eroded to leave a stare, a vacancy, a hole……. mind the gap! too late……. ‘to let, only one owner, in need of more than some renovation or maybe demolish and start again’……. a mockery of life face to face……. seen it all, seen too much, nothing shocks, nothing surprises, little engages….. worldy-weary mask that’s not a mask after all……. late for something but can’t remember what……. to enjoy being young perhaps…… bewilderment, disappointment, disillusionment scored into the lines, all this way for what?….. this?…….. wisdom, is that it?…. the deal, a fair exchange?……. mirror, mirror on the wall you’re not what I imagined all those years ago of wasted youth, of live-forever thoughtless cares……. another life…. other lives…. maybe they weren’t mine, what is growing old before your time?……..  when I look into the reflection there’s a death… and then another…. then another… and another….

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