Tiny invaders

Imps that serve your

Fears on a platter

What most disturbs

Brought near 

With quiet efficiency

Unless an angel of the mind

Drive them out

The real question is not

To be or not to be--

The question

Is how to be if

To be leads inexorably to not be--

To question if cessation is proper

Suggests infinite time--

But cessation is already there

Waiting

Slings and arrows, fardels,

They all disappear like a cloud

As if never there

Along with you

It's that thing about dying

It takes care of itself 

And everything else.

]

For those interested, an instagram page: playwrightskarlan.

This strange lassitude

A seductive somnolence

Where you fall off

Into lost days

With unfinished dreams

And the sound of rain