Death, old problem new name

[UnbornBuddha]

Time is ticking in the cosmos clock
And here you are, while your time is adding up
Willy nilly taking for granted your planet's spot
Bestowed upon you by the hands of God,
Or perhaps by your own will to capture love
Someone to touch, a corpse to often hug
Or perhaps your on a knowledge lust
But, be wary time is limited, when the casket drops.
Near death experiences have their own aftershock
Dopamine splashes out like water drops, conscious massage,
A fleeting moment composed of scattered thoughts
Death is no more different than when you first suffered loss.
My wishes have only gotten as far as Jafar got
Disappointments attack the heart until it falls half apart
A bitter taste in the morning is your body's musk
Sending signals of desperation that the battle done.
Taste buds reveal the how and why's of your acrid tongue
You see the brain releases its own narcotic junk
Your a machine no different than an Autobot
Only difference is that your a lot of fun!
I'm providing you images of the martyr's jump
into oblivion. As far as the darkest fall
A plunging that leads to a haunting drop
With no end to it, just further tarnishing in the karmic mud.
In total darkness the fallen pray to watch the sun
Their only hope is to strike a match inside their jaws
So when they pontificate they can ride its wattage.
How can a prophet have writer's block? Nonsense...
Chronic sickness is like a rose with a constant prick
Painful, but beautiful, it's odd isn't it?
Embrace its hypnotizing hold on you
Until your soul blooms into its own holy room.
Here's mine, please pardon the lack of furniture
I wish I had a bird or two, to show off when guests wander through
Honestly, I don't mean to hammer you with ample views
It somewhat amuses me when I'm in a laughing mood.
The world nowadays prefers diabolic truth
They find comfort knowing they will die rotting in a common dune
A zombie's tomb, that holds no promise of revival
Truthfully, I myself prefer the contents of survival
After all, I find no reason for this Odyssey trial to be logically final
Evolving is impossibly vital, that is until the call of the primal.
The end of the cycles, entails the Great fall of the idols
This is a good place to pause and be idle.
So,
Let my message go up your spinal cord,
Initiating your timely growth
Reconstituting your cerebral's tiny lobes.