Me meets demise.

Reflections in a dim lit room near the end of time.

Things have become very bad around here, I have become mortal no longer God like youth.

A first world born inflicted by afluenza a condition that separated me from the suffering of billions in a sanitzed reality on the Western edges of the world.

I have hurtled down from this stratosphere and fallen on septic flowing streets among the castoffs and the flowers amidst the abnormal the obtuse. I find mundane refuge in words that salve my fall from grace born highness to this ordinary mess surrounded by decay.

No longer do I love it seems I never knew how and have given up the transient illusions that I ever even tried perhaps love was just a memory of could have been.

Brought low to mortality the road is closing before me now when it once spread open wide.

Wrapped in the filth of ages that I wear with the dignity no longer caring, no shames are left to bear. I stumble fall, rise up and fall again through all ravages I traverse in rapid decline.

A trail of masks I have cast away and each one once was me, I am bare naked in the realness of new found finality, the closure at the end of every book.

Over the horizon and drawing near lies the lifeless fingers of oblivion, I can feel the straining air render under the pressure of oblivions reach as it plucks the living chord that is still called me.

An old man now has taken up residence in mirrors were once immortal youth was stored reflection. I do not recognize that worn lined crumpled face it reeks of demise and a fading being that no longer burns with fire.

Here among the mortal in this living world I make my final stand with words and musings of times long gone, in grace and with multiples of regrets long left behind.

I feel the fates that gave me time have singled out my thread and taken up the scissors while measuring the line where they will surely cut at the end of my known time.