circling the rim of oblivion

it's laughable, really, how we are always dying, how if the death of it isn't coming together fast enough for our modern american sensibilities, we do what we can to rush it along. we love our deaths, we visit them regularly: at least once a month, but as often as multiple times in an hour, in a minute, how can something so universal, so inevitable, something we negotiate every day, sometimes as much as multiple times in an hour, how could it be so unthinkable, so unimaginable, so utterly and willfully outside the scope of our understanding? because death: here it is. and here it is again. and here, yet again. death and death and death and death. i've been dismissed more than once in my life as a misery girl, a suicide groupie, but it's not like that: it never was. it just takes so fucking long to even accept the possibility of this matter, only as universal as it is inevitable. even the air will die, even the water, even the dust. we are all always ever on the way out. and yet, and yet: really i'm simply trying to understand it. get beyond that first lap with it. make a conversation where there is usually only