This Playground is Terminally Ill by Craig Podmore
This Playground is Terminally Ill
By Craig Podmore 19.06.09 ©
This playground is terminally ill.
The scabs that are the headlines
On the breakfast table.
In the ileostomy bag
There’s suffering congealed
Like dark matter
Formed in the big bang.
Ever looked unto the dying face of Longsheng?
The abyss between the myth and the hopeful;
The coffin of God and the existence of nothing.
So we suffer to create meaninglessness.
We destroy to create a life of
Uncertainty and immense pain.
Please apply your methods of hurt
And show me the path to what
Is really
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