happy thirty
happy death
happy where are we

I have traveled
inside a cave
crushed inside skin
dried patches of skin
hands callous
the incurable stink of walking
over distance
dark distances

I have traveled
in dangerous caverns
falling, screaming
repeating

savagely
for thirty years
scavenging
closing in on those
scarce drips of essence
those impossible puddles of truth

inside a cave

where I begin to feel like shadow
dark layer upon dark layer
going nowhere

I already hear them singing:

happy happy thirty
happy birthday
joyous shadow
lost lost lost in time

nihilistic poetry