perishable mind
like dairy or fruits
set with expiration
a date for termination
counting days and months
a kind of preparation
one for ending things
a comfort it brings
scan me like a bar code
it'll work just as well
stamp my skin with ink
to tell when my body will sink
i'll sit atop my countertop
waiting for the day
the one where i'll fall
and everything will go away
perhaps i'll write a letter
though i don't see the point
i could say goodbye
and overwrite every lie
i like the sound of rushing wind
blowing hair and clothes
followed by crunching tones
those would be my bones
i like the blurry feeling
like spinning 'round and 'round
painful drifting
pills in my gut sifting
expiration date
once i've come of age
i will be no more
that much is for sure
