A deathly predisposition

We were all born terminal,
decay laid in the DNA, death in the genes.

Lethality, we breathe it,
we walk on our murderer,
we swallow the essential poison,
we kiss miss reaper in sloth comfort.

Time and date, time and date,
we see only events, appointments,
and on occasion a count down to midnight,
darkness,
and the descent
of a lively illumination.
We only see the count up to the downfall
when one is told of a 'true' time limit,
some symptom or syndrome,
a disease of damnation,
so procrastination
is for the blind clock watchers,
the coffee sippers and the grass layers.

Procrastination,
Hamlets hamartia.
He was the good guy.

May more deaths dent into us,
to build up life.
It's the cycle, it's all part of the celebration,
Play the play just as you would profile the players.