Nature
Death

A Plea to Spend Real Money On Space Travel Research

Felix Dennis
February 5, 2007
Mandalay, Mustique
Unpublished
Arrow
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You think trees love you?  Think again.
Oldest of all the tyrants, wood
Would crush and smash you if he could.
In time he will — the trees shall reign.

You think Earth loves us?  She does not.
Nothing is what we are to her,
New parasites, a creeping burr
To itch her skin —  one shake, we’re shot.

You think life loves me?  Hear me cough,
Swallowing bile to catch a breath.
Life has only one lover: Death.
We must get off.  We must get off!