Peace is the Air of Dead desire.
Day after endless day, night after interminable night
engaged in useless disquisitions.
The frustrations mount with each and every fruitless fight.
The pointless struggle, to what end,
there is nothing positive in my sight.
Money begets money and the poor get fucked, for us it’s futile, I fear.
I tell myself I do not care,
they can even take away my atmosphere.
Each day is hopeless;
each night’s blackness offers the oblivion I seek.
Sleep, my only escape,
is often hard to secure,
perhaps it is because I am too meek.
The gas is simple,
the gas is quick, it won’t even make me sick.
I choose to live alone but tire of the fight,
just a couple of quick breathes and it’ll be alright.
I weigh the consequences of my plan,
harming others is not my goal,
actions will take their toll.
My plan is simple, elegant, and quick.
No muss, no fuss, and I am done.
What keeps me here I cannot say,
gravity some would claim
but I have found the answer in
the first Noble gas’ quick respite
to free this tormented soul from its constant fight.