My poem is on page 57 of Necro Magazine.
Death by Inches
We die by inches each day
Our cells continuously disintegrating
The inevitable fate awaits us
None will make it out alive
Yet some suck desperately
From the mythical fountain of youth
As if money or power can buy
Beauty and happiness at the same time
Living a life of quiet desperation
Praying to the Gods of knives and needles
Frightened of a blemish, frown line, scar
Some play chicken on life’s railroad tracks
Knowing the train will eventually smear us
Dragging us along for a short trip
If we’re lucky enough not to suffer
We scream, I dare you
But Death requires no invitation
She will enter your house
Creeping through the vents and drains
Along the walls and ceilings
Watching us go about our day
While we think our plan is working
We don’t notice the air is heavy
But we are too obtuse to notice
Into the darkness kicking and screaming
Whether we were happy, sad, good, or evil
We still must go
Yong Takahashi 