The false eternity

young people

walk around

with half-lit cigarettes,

eyes like dull knives

and souls

fresh out of the oven.

they think time

is a skinny dog

they can kick,

that death

is just a story

that happens to others

on the news or in bad

2 a.m. movies.

they laugh at the old

like aging

was some disease

you choose to catch.

they walk around

chests puffed

like hearts

can’t be broken.

they think love

always comes back,

that legs

won’t ever shake,

that mothers

live forever

and friends

don’t rot from cancer

in borrowed hospital beds.

they don’t get

that this

false eternity

is just the body’s trick,

desire’s illusion,

a sick joke

youth plays

before it pulls

each feather

out by the root.

they think they’ll never be

the ones who tremble climbing stairs,

the ones who talk to themselves

at bus stops,

the ones who carry silence

like luggage

with no wheels.

but time

is a killer

in a nice suit

with all the patience in the world.

and one day,

staring into the mirror

seeing their father

in their own eyes,

they’ll remember a line

they didn’t care to read:

no one escapes.

not you.

not me.

not even the ones who dance

like the world owes them something.

eternity,

brother,

is just a rumor

we made up

so we wouldn’t

shit ourselves in fear.