There are those days when you have to ask
Which will fail first, the world or your flesh?
Most days, the safe bet would be your flesh,
But some days this world don’t look so fresh.
No, not the vast world of night and stars.
That world’s crisp, bright, but that world’s not ours.
It’s this small game world, snarled trades and wars,
That looks some days like it’s not so sure
It can go on as it has—seize this,
Take that. It runs too hot. It looks sick,
Sick to death. Short odds are this will pass—
You’ll fail first. You don’t want to fail last.
Monday, June 28, 2021
Heat Strokes World
