1334.

Calendars stacked up
in memorial. The lost
and taken. Constant.

1333.

A nostalgia there
for what will never be known
or now remembered.

1332.

An explanation,
perhaps, for humanity's
fast decline. Progress.

1331.

Slaves to impetus
over choice. Breathing robots.
Fundamental base.

1330.

Flesh houses captive
to its frailties. Moving just
means a certain death.

1329.

We dress breathing up
as mindfulness and thus the
human monkeys play.

1328.

The machines of these
bodies, faulty and failing
make up such filler.

1327.

The opiate of
pointlessness masked as meaning.
Or, routine living.

1326.

Set to fabricate
what can't be seen naturally.
Empty belonging.

1325.

We're all such lonely
creatures just dreaming for some
sort of connection.

1324.

So desperate to
feel a love that certainty
casts impossible.

1323.

A will to take what
one feels and replicate it
across your body.

1322.

I am a sucker
for people who cast hearts and
flesh, mundane, as love.

1321.

Today is dressed in
honor and memory as
a thank you for birth.