Poemetry by T.A. Barnhart


the new year tells me
i’m that much closer
to the end of everything.
as if i needed
that obvious reminder.
i feel it
almost every waking moment
in the slow aching breakdown
of my body.
my mind knows
too well
the reality of what waits for me,
my slight consolation being
once it happens
i won’t even know,
much less care.
if i’m going to be pissed
at life
for death,
i might as well be pissed
at myself
for not living
my one and only
far-too-short life –
and i know
what a waste of time
that is.
i get fewer & fewer
years, months, days;
so precious,
so quickly gone.
it’s like falling off a cliff:
i might as well
enjoy the view
as much as possible
on my way down.

©TA Barnhart January 3, 2021